A Simple Case of Death
by Story Please
Summary: Dr. Gregory House finds himself being kidnapped to do a consult for two very ill and very powerful individuals who are part of a world that he never imagined existed. He will have to set aside some of his preconceived notions of medical science when he learns that his diagnosis might be the difference between the survival or extinction of an entire society. (c)coverbyCorvusDraconis
1. Prologue

Dr. House finds himself being kidnapped to do a consult for two very ill and very powerful individuals who are part of a world that he never imagined existed. He will have to set aside some of his preconceived notions of medical science when he learns that his patients are the Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Minister of Magic respectively.

Author's Note: I've been rewatching House M.D. recently, and came up with a really weird idea crossover story for the Wizarding World. This is going to be strange, but hopefully good. Super duper AU. You've been warned.

* * *

><p><span>Prologue<span>

The icy wind blew relentlessly as the lanky figure swathed in black wool robes strode at an unyielding pace into the sharply spired building. He whispered some words under his breath at the door, and with the sound of a few locks twisting and clicking into place, it opened to admit him, though no one appeared to be inside. He slipped through into the darkness without opening the door fully, and it slammed shut behind him with an echoing finality.

His steps were soft and measured as he moved onward with a solemn sense of purpose down the empty, dark hall. The ease with which he moved made it quite clear that he was in his true element. His dark eyes seemed so familiar with the lack of light that when he stopped abruptly and felt for the the door knob, it was in one seamless motion. The light inside was dim, but it was enough to make him wince slightly as he turned to pull the door shut behind himself.

"How are they doing?" he asked quietly, his voice even with an underlying intensity as he maintained a neutral expression.

"As well as can be expected," came the reply from the woman sitting against the wall with a book held open in her hand, her bushy hair sticking out of her head as though she'd recently been shocked.

"Where are your other…?"

"They got a call by Floo an hour ago."

"What sort of call?"

"The sort of call that takes precedence over even a delicate brewing regimen."

"And exactly why were both of them needed for a single call? If you were not serious about gaining your Mastery levels, then is your intention merely to waste my precious time?"

She looked at him over the book, her expression grave and met his eyes fiercely in the gloom.

"One call. Two victims," she said quietly through her teeth, and he noticed that she was quivering slightly in her chair, and it was not out of fear of him. How had he not noticed before?

Turning his head to search the darkened room in case all of this was merely a practical joke, he pulled out a dark length of wood and moved it in a curious formation, nodding slightly when he was satisfied. No one was hiding in the room, ready to jump out and shout "gotcha!" Her alarm was real and he hated himself for a moment for doubting her.

"Who?" he said, closing the distance between them in one smooth movement, gracefully bending down on one knee in front of her so that his face was level with hers, his hand gripping her shoulder firmly.

"We did everything...everything to stop it from spreading…" she said shakily, inclining her head to the room full of bubbling cauldrons, "And to think that this only slows down the effects of the disease…"

"Hermione, look at me," he said, and she could see the fatigue around his eyes as she looked up at him with her eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears, "You have done everything possible, as much as anyone could have been expected to do."

"It doesn't matter!" she replied tearfully, "It wasn't enough to save them, to make them healthy again!"

"There may be a solution. I have been doing research outside...our normal means," he replied, his thumb rubbing a circle on her shoulder as though to comfort her.

"You're talking about Muggle medicine?" she gasped, screwing her eyes shut, "Why didn't I think of that? It's so simple and I didn't even consider it. I'm such a-"

"You can feel sorry for yourself later," he said shortly, "But now you need to focus. Who. Was. It?"

"Professor..." she said softly, looking at the ground, "It's Shacklebolt. And...and McGonagall."

"...What?" his voice was low but full of fury.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt and Professor Minerva McGonagall," Hermione murmured after a moment.

He opened his mouth as though to say something when a loud crack came from outside of the door.

"Watch the cauldrons! That's an order!" he snapped, turning, his black cloak billowing behind him as he reached the door and pulled it open violently, slamming it hard behind him.

The two young Aurors stood outside, their faces grim.

"They've been stabilized at Grimmauld Place, but if we don't find something soon…." said the young man with the dark, wild hair and glasses, his eyes wide with worry.

"Oh, really, Mr. Potter? And here I was, thinking that we were just making these draughts for shits and giggles," came the acerbic reply.

"Oi! Snape! Don't you talk to us like that!" growled the tall, red-haired man who stood next to his friend, "We're adults now, and just because we're under your tutelage to pass our Masters levels doesn't mean you can treat us like we're back at Hogwarts."

"If that is your idea of a threat, Weasley," Snape said with a sneer, "Then I suggest you try harder next time. Now come inside and help Miss Granger."

Ron gave the tall man with the hooked nose an irritated sneer in return as he ducked past into the room, while Harry simply followed his friend silently, his eyes on the floor.

Severus Snape frowned, pulling a piece of newsprint from his robes and looked at the photo with the name underneath it in the dim light. Frowning, he pulled a small, dirty shoelace and grasped it tightly in his fist.

"I will be back shortly," he said to Hermione, who had appeared to close the door behind her friends.

"Please hurry," she whispered, her eyes darting back into the room where her two friends were grumbling as they tended to the calderons.

But if he heard her, he gave her no indication. He turned and swept away into the darkness of the hallway, not breaking stride as he tore through the door to the outside air and disappeared without a sound.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I'm not quite sure how long I'm willing to take this story, but I am definitely interested in knowing what you think about my chapters. Also, I am not a medical student, so some of my medical jargon may be...a bit fuzzy. But then again, I am writing this story for fun, so there's that too!

**Chapter 1: The Reluctant Doctor**

Gregory House sat on the hard wooden piano bench, his fingers lightly brushing the keys. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he sat in thought, his fingers itching to hammer out a melody even though he was not yet playing the tune that was knocking around in his head. It was late. He couldn't sleep, but that didn't matter. He looked over at the small tumbler partially filled with richly colored whiskey and rifled in his pocket for the little amber bottle that would help numb the regularly throbbing, gut-wrenching pain in his leg.

He did not notice the tall, dark shape that had materialized across the street from his home.

He ignored the first quiet knock on his door. The second knock was louder, and he simply knocked back a number of white, oblong pills, washing them down with the caramel colored alcohol. By the third knock, he was beginning to get annoyed.

The alcohol and Vicodin did very little to stop his rising irritation at the thought of being interrupted not ten minutes after having arrived home after a long, horrible day where everything had seemed to go wrong. First, the pharmacy had misplaced his prescription, so he'd had to go without meds for eight, agonizing hours. So he was already grumpy when he had been faced with a patient who was bleeding when she should be clotting and clotting when she should be bleeding. Oh, and she'd had a stroke without a clot, which had utterly stumped him. It was a mystery, but one that he was not enjoying the usual way he enjoyed a case. It was getting to the point that he was pretty much throwing shit at a wall and hoping something stuck.

His lackeys were busy doing all of the boring work-ups on their current patient and nothing conclusive had yet been found, so there was little he could offer and he was not about to spend all evening in the lab. It hadn't helped that he'd been flooded with a number of boring, inconsequential clinic patients just as he thought he might be able to sneak out. Damn Cuddy had found his secret exit route through the morgue. Which was ironic, seeing as he'd chosen it specifically simply because no one who hung out there on the regular would be able to talk.

And so, he had finally returned home to the silence and yet here was someone knocking upon his door. It was far too late for people looking to sell a magazine subscription and it was far too early for an exotic dancer to "happen upon his doorstep" (besides, he hadn't called one, and Wilson was too much of a goody-two-shoes to think of doing such a thing). And, as far as he knew, burglars didn't knock.

The knocking stopped just as he was about to shout something disparaging at the door, and he turned back to the piano, folding his fingers together and pulling them back gently until they cracked and popped satisfyingly. He listened for a few moments for any other movement at his door, and when he was satisfied by the silence that followed, he smiled acerbically.

It was the little things.

He was about to rest his fingers on the keys when he heard his locks click open.

Simultaneously.

_Shit. I was wrong. It IS a burglar. But how could a burglar unlock both of my locks at once?_

"I have a cane and I'm not afraid to use it!" he shouted raspily, his throat burning slightly from his earlier sip of whiskey, and he turned around on the bench and ducked behind the couch as though expecting return fire, "Also, I'm a doctor and I come into contact with horrible infectious diseases everyday. Unless you want the bubonic plague or flesh-eating bacteria to eat you alive, you should probably reconsider whose house you wish to burgle!"

There was silence, but he could hear the door opening slightly, cautiously, as though the person behind it had a great deal of experience with being stealthy.

_Shit. Did I piss someone off enough for them to pay for a hit?_

Perhaps the thought would be ridiculous to the average person, let alone the average doctor. But Gregory House was not average in any sense of the word. And he had the habit of pissing off dangerous people. Unfortunately, he also had a habit of running at the mouth against his better judgement. Hence his propensity to risk being punched out by one his patients regardless of whether or not it was useful for his diagnosis.

"If you're here to murder me, you'd better make it quick. I might get paged at any moment by my bonehead team and I'd prefer not to have my last moments be full of their inane whining," he said with a bitingly sarcastic voice, the words leaving his lips before he had thought better of the taunting tone he had used.

A rustle of cloth came in answer as the unknown assailant slid into the doorway to his front room and closed the door quietly, clicking the deadbolt into place with a loud click.

"Oh I see, the strong, silent type is it?" House continued from the floor behind the couch, trying to figure out a way to find a way to provoke the man (from the soft sound of his boots on the landing, it was either a man or a heavy woman, but somehow that just didn't seem nearly as menacing) into making his next move. After all, people acting out of anger and irritation made mistakes and mistakes were useful if he wanted to remain not dead at the hands of some maniac.

"Dr. Gregory House, I presume?"

To his surprise, a biting baritone answered with a decidedly English accent of some sort, though House had no clue as to where exactly the man hailed from. It was far stranger that there was a mysterious man breaking into his house late at night, after all.

"Well, at least you're not Australian. It would be embarrassing to be murdered by an Aussie, especially since Chase would likely use my death as a way to pick up chicks somehow."

"It is not my intention to murder you."

Soft footsteps moved cautiously into the room and as House looked up, pale fingers curled around the top of the couch as an unfamiliar man bent forward over it and looked down at the Head of Diagnostic Medicine who was crouched down on one leg with his cane in the air.

"My stick is bigger than yours," House said, gesturing with his cane at the black stick-like implement in the man's other hand.

"I was hoping to speak with you about a matter of grave importance," the man said, his face severe.

"Sure," House replied, "It's not like I was at home, trying to have a nice evening relaxing _alone_."

The other man grimaced as a curtain of greasy, black hair fell over his face and accentuated his long, hooked nose, making him look quite menacing indeed, almost as though he had had quite a bit of practice at it.

"I can relate to your love of solitude, but my..._interruption_...was unfortunately unavoidable. I have read a number of articles about you, and after having investigated all other possible alternatives, I have come to the conclusion that your expertise is all that stands between losing hundreds of lives and the death of our Minister and the Headmistress of our most eminent educational institution and the possibility of a cure."

"And why should I believe you?" House grumbled irritably, as he pulled himself up to standing on his cane, "I don't even know your name, you come barging into my inner sanctum like a common burglar and I'm supposed to believe your plea for help like I'm some innocent child from the deserts of Tatooine?"

The tall, pale man gave him a puzzled look and then his mouth twitched upward into a wry smile.

"Because, while I do not know you personally, and I _do_ know that you are quite well-known for not liking much of anything at all, there is one thing that you enjoy beyond all measure. Something that gives you a most..._singular_ pleasure, one that you cannot deny yourself no matter how hard you try."

"Oh, I'm flattered, really," House replied sardonically, "Normally, though, I like to be wined and dined before I'll accept proposals of marriage, just so you know. Flowers would be a nice touch. My personal favorite is roses. Be sure to bring a dozen white ones next time you visit. Buh bye, now!"

"It's Snape," the man said, "Severus Snape."

"Who in the what now?"

"It's my name, or were you actually expecting a proposal? You asked so I answered," Snape replied sardonically in return, "You must excuse my lack of patience for humorous diatribe. I'm not quite in the mood to make jokes while people I care for are dying."

"I think you got the wrong place," House replied, "You seem to be under the erroneous impression that this is a hospital."

"I don't need a hospital," Snape said darkly, "What I need...is _you_."

"And I need to stop being bored out of my mind by irrelevant flattery!" House snapped, limping tiredly behind the man and opening his front door, "Now, _leave_ or give me something that actually piques my interest!"

"I don't think you understood me correctly, I wasn't asking you if you wanted to come with me. I am _telling_ you that you _are_ coming with me."

"You can try. Many have tried. Few have succeeded. I'm faster than I look, you know," House replied, stumbling out the door slightly, "HELP! CRIPPLE BEING ATTACKED! HE'S GOT MY CANE!"

He turned back with a smile, "You'd better run off now, Mr. Creepy Fan. I have a neighbor who calls the cops when she hears anyone so much as cough too loudly."

"Oh for the love of-" Snape replied, whirling around with a snarl, "Just give me a chance to explain for one goddamn minute!"

"Fine! You've got your minute! Hope you're a good sprinter!" House began to hobble towards the sidewalk without looking back to see that he was being followed.

"We have an epidemic. It is nothing we've ever seen before. None of our traditional medication is working. Patients present with cardiac arrest, lack of lung activity and multi-organ failure."

"I think the word you're looking for here is _**death**_. I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker, Jim."

"My name is not Jim, and I know the difference between death and illness," Severus said, crossing his arms, "In any case, there is a good reason for why I call this an _epidemic_ and not a medical massacre. They stop breathing, their hearts stop. For all intents and purposes, they die, but they are not dead. They do not rot, their brains remain perfectly undamaged, even though their hearts are not beating and their lungs are not breathing. Their bodies, for lack of a better word, _freeze_."

House's blue eyes snapped wide. He turned abruptly and stared up into the pinched face of the man following him silently like a black-clad wraith.

"Go on," he said, quietly, leaning forward on his cane.

"We have tried a number of...traditional methods...for treating this problem, and all have failed. We can merely hold them in stasis for about a week before they die for real."

"Which I'm guessing is...bad, right?"

"_You_ are the doctor. I assume that you can puzzle that out for yourself."

"Fine," House said with a shrug, "Let's say I take your case. I'll need you to bring your people in so that my people can treat them."

"There may be a problem with your request."

"Oh, this is going to be _rich_. What are you going to do, hit me with your stick?"

"No, but I can do _this_," the man Snape drew up to his full height and pulled the dark stick from his robes as he had before.

A flash of light poured from the black stick (_Wand? But that would be ludicrous!_) that was pointed squarely at his chest and Gregory House felt himself fall to the ground as though his body were made of stone. He almost didn't believe it when the man grabbed him around the wrist and he experienced the sensation of what he imagined being turned inside out would feel like, not that he had any prior experience in such a thing.

_Now this just might be interesting...I wonder if-_

But his thoughts were cut short as the world around him fell away into darkness.


	3. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Ever since I've come up with this idea, I've been looking forward to having the two most snarky characters I've ever heard of get an excuse to talk to one another. Hence this chapter. I am reminded of the immortal words of They Might Be Giants:_

"_A woman came up to me and said "I'd like to poison your mind._

_WIth wrong ideas that appeal to me though I am not unkind."_

_She looked at me, I looked at something written across her scalp._

_And these are the words that she faintly said as I was trying to call for help_

_There's only one thing that I know how to do well_

_And I've often been told that you only can do what you know how to do well_

_And that's be you_

_Be what you're like._

_Be like yourself!_

_And though I'm having a wonderful time I would rather be whistling in the dark."_

_I hope you enjoy this chapter, dear reader!_

**Chapter 2: Whistling in the Dark**

"It is not uncommon for people new to this manner of travel to vomit," Snape said as House felt himself unfreeze and he doubled over, trying not to retch, "Do not consider it a mark of weakness if you find you need to do so. Though, I would appreciate it if you could refrain from doing so on my shoes."

"I am _not_ going to vomit," House replied between heaving gasps, "I just took my happy pills and I'm not letting them come back up until they do their duty, damn it!"

Snape merely shot him an unamused look in reply.

"Ok, I lied, but then again, everybody does. The truth is, I'm in pain. The pills help me manage the pain. Ergo, I need to keep them in my belly so they can do their job or I can't do my job," House groused loudly as the waves of nausea subsided.

"You are quite a bit more abrasive than I thought you would be," Snape muttered under his breath as he crossed his arms and waited for the shorter man to recover fully.

"You're no ray of sunshine yourself, _Vlad_," House replied sardonically, "Where did you get your outfit, anyway? I thought that all the cool kids stopped shopping at the Hot Topic when they realize they have no actual reason to be dark and brooding."

"If I wished to be insulted, _Doctor House_, I would not have crossed an entire ocean to do so," Snape snapped irritably," And you should probably not be making fun of other people's names when your own coupled with your title makes you sound like a DJ from some muggle club-."

He suddenly went silent, his tirade cut off as his eyes darted over to House, who was testing his cane on the grassy hillside.

"It's later here," he said simply, gesturing at the large waxing moon setting on the horizon, the stars shining brightly in the darkened sky as the smell of wet grasses filled his nose, "And I may not be all that familiar with the Queen's English, but 'muggle' is not one of Her Majesty's words, am I right? In fact, there's a lot that I'm in the dark about. _Literally_."

The tall, gaunt man simply gave House an unamused glare and fumbled in his robes for something. He finally produced an old lantern that looked as though until recently it had been gathering rust in a barn somewhere. After fiddling with the switch and knocking the side with his hand a bit, the light turned on and flickered a bit before casting a sickly yellow glow before them.

"We do not have far to go," Snape said shortly, "Do try to keep up."

"Hello? Cripple here! You can't expect me to follow you around in the dark in the middle of what looks like a forest clearing, even if you didn't just temporarily paralyze and transport me...from the position of the stars...wait. That can't be right. How did you-? This doesn't make sense."

"_Must_ you keep talking incessantly?" Snape hissed through his teeth, "There are things out here that are a sight bigger and hungrier than the squirrels and pigeons in your neighborhood."

"What can I say? Talking is my thing. You might even call it a **gift**!" House said with a defiant glare as he shouted the last word.

"Fine!" Snape pulled the stick from his robes and with a silent flourish of his wrist, pointed it at House's leg.

"Looks like you forgot to say 'Abracadabra!'" House snapped, reaching down to rub his thigh, "Exactly what was that supposed to do? I'm a doctor not a five year old. I'm well acquainted with the placebo effect."

"Your behavior suggests that you have more in common with a five year old child than you think. But that is neither here nor there. If you are so sure that it had no effect, take a step without your cane, then, and see," Snape replied evenly, holding his hand out to take it, "I promise, I will give your cane back if you want it afterwards."

House rolled his eyes, but handed the cane over as well.

"Might as well prove you wrong, then. Won't _you_ be embarrassed!" he quipped, covering his mouth theatrically as he contorted his lips into an exaggerated "O".

"Walk more, talk less," Snape crossed his arms, the lantern in one hand and the cane tucked under the other.

"All right, all right already, but if I twist my ankle, _you're_ carrying me," House replied irritably, and he took a tentative step, his hand instinctively sliding towards the spot that plagued him with unending, stabbing pain.

Nothing.

He took another step towards the tall, thin man, backlit in the yellow glow of the lantern

No pain.

"What did you..?" He looked up, his eyes huge with shock, "That stick, it shocked me before...no...it froze my body. An electric shock would not affect a person like that, unless.."

"Unless what?"

"It's going to sound crazy, but then again, I'm a fan of crazy...as long as it makes sense. And the only thing that makes it make sense is..."

They had been walking up a small rise together as House mumbled and ranted rhetorically, and suddenly, Snape held his arm out to signal him to stop, cutting off the doctor's musing abruptly.

"It looks like we have company," he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Professor? Is that you!? Thank god you're here!" an unfamiliar and unmistakably female voice came from over the hill and House looked suspiciously at the black arm that was still held out in front of him, blocking his way.

'Professor?' House mouthed at the dark greasy sheets of hair, and Snape nodded slightly towards him to show that he'd somehow seen, even though his eyes were hidden from view and his face was mostly inclined towards the source of the voice.

"Who's this?" the woman had reached the top of the hill and jogged down until she'd caught up with them, bending over slightly and placing her hands on her thighs to catch her breath.

She was wearing some kind of dark purple cloak, almost like something out of a renaissance faire, only with less corsets and cleavage and more practical coverage. Her hair puffed out around her head in snarls and curls as though it had a mind of its own, but her eyes were as gentle as her hair was wild even though her expression was fierce and concerned. She stared up at the tall man with her eyes huge with admiration and..._something else_. House felt a small stab of discomfort when he realized that Cameron had looked at him in _that_ sort of way before, and he silently hoped that she wouldn't try and have a touching scene and confess her feelings while he was still around.

"I had some trouble..._convincing him_ to help," Snape said dismissively as he shifted to the rear of the group, refusing to look back at the doctor he'd practically dragged for the past half-mile.

"Is this…? Oh my gosh! I recognize you! You're Doctor Gregory House! I've read a few of your articles!" the woman had turned and smiled warmly at him, "Funny, I always had the impression that you would be taller."

"And I had the impression from hearing your voice that your breasts would be bigger," House replied sarcastically, "I guess we're both going to have to live with the disappointment."

The woman gave him the sort of skeptical, unamused look that almost made House wish that Cuddy was nearby so that he could compare their expressions. He was certain that they would be eerily similar, though the woman before him was probably closer to her mid to late twenties than her mid to late thirties. She raised her hand and he flinched automatically, assuming she was about to slap him, but she stuck her hand out instead.

"I'm Granger, Hermione Granger," she said, "I was going to say it was nice to meet you, but now I'm not quite so sure that I am. I don't know if that's how you treat women in the States, but here, that sort of commentary on one's physical characteristics is considered quite rude indeed."

"Sorry," House replied apologetically after a moment, "But I've had a rough night so please forgive me if it's hard for me to be my normally _charming_ self. First, I get kidnapped by _Batman_ over there, paralyzed, somehow transported through quite a number of time zones without remembering doing so and then forced to tromp around in a muddy hilly field in the dark. I guess you could say that my senses are on overload, so my reactions are a bit more...extreme than usual."

Hermione smirked at his "Batman" quip, and the man Snape seemed to stiffen, as though he had been insulted but was trying not to show that he had been affected by it.

"So," House continued, his eyes fixed on Hermione intensely, "Now that someone with a less insufferably dark, brooding and mysterious vibe is here, i.e. _YOU_, do you mind explaining exactly why we're here and when I can see these so-called patients? Because I'm tired and I can feel the beginning of a hangover in the back of my skull and I just had the shitty day to top all shitty days."

"Certainly," Hermione replied, turning, her eyes shifting momentarily over in the dim, flickering lamplight towards the dark man who stood like a jagged shadow in the dark before meeting House's eyes defiantly, "Just this way, you're almost there."

She pulled out a different colored stick and muttered something under her breath, causing it to glow brightly at the tip.

"Her-er-_Miss Granger_!" came the growl from behind them and at first, the woman's eyes went wide with shock and she froze guiltily as though she hadn't realized what she was doing, but she relaxed soon after and simply graced him with a gentle shrug.

"Wow, they really _do _put LEDs in everything nowadays," House quipped, and Hermione just shook her head, a small grin spreading across her face despite her still wary expression.

"You know, for a doctor, I must say you are certainly not quite what I expected," Hermione said softly, more to herself than to him.

"Your friend Doom and Gloom over there just caught me off duty. I promise that I have a real stethoscope and a white coat and even a medical degree..._somewhere…_" He trailed off with a wink, his eyes focusing seriously on the light that was steadily glowing at the point of the stick Hermione carried, "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was-"

They'd reached the top of the hill and he found himself unable to speak.

Not because of the pain in his leg, though. For the first time in over a year, the pain was non-existent and he was still having trouble coming to terms that he wasn't dreaming.

Well, at least he didn't think so, but the view before him was giving him second thoughts.

A massive stone castle rose out of the gloom, torches lighting up what seemed like hundreds of windows in the dark, and he had to blink slowly because he could have sworn that it hadn't been there only moments before.

"_-magic_?" he finally managed, his voice going so high with shock that it almost broke, the word hanging in the air as he stood with his mouth hanging open for a moment longer than he ought to have, his sense of wonder and shock rankling slightly as he heard Snape chuckle from the darkness nearby, probably at House's ridiculous expression.

"You are correct, Doctor House," Hermione said with a flourish of her hand as she indicated the castle, "Welcome to Hogwarts."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: A Doctor, A Death Eater and a Baby Walk into a Bar…**

"So, exactly how did you lovely kidnapping folks come up with _Hogwarts_ anyhow?" House asked abruptly as they entered the double doors, his voice going up an octave as he did a bad impression of an English accent, "Was _Toadwarts_ already taken? Did the founder of this..._questionable_ _institution_ simply go for a walk, come across a wild hog and go 'Well pip pip, I say, old sport! Let's name a school after these lumpy protuberances around this here creature's face!'

Snape snorted derisively behind them.

"How did you know it was a school?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Well, after you called that one over there 'professor,' it wasn't exactly much of a logical leap, you know," he replied acerbically, "Because there is only one other reason to call Mr. Morose behind us 'professor,' and judging from your response to my earlier comment on your cup size, you're not the kinky type...well...not the _overtly_ kinky type anyway."

Hermione's puzzled expression shifted to a deeply embarrassed one and her cheeks went a dark scarlet at his insinuation. House stole a glance behind him and silently noted with a twisted sense of glee that the professor in question had turned a similar shade of red, though Hermione didn't seem to notice.

"_Professor Snape_. He has a name, you know," she replied finally, after silently struggling to recover for a few moments, "If this is any indication of your bedside manner, doctor, I honestly must say that I don't know how you've managed to get _published_ let alone keep your job, regardless of your supposed brilliance."

House was about to reply with a cutting remark when Snape swept up suddenly next to Hermione and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Miss Granger," he said in a low voice, "You should go ahead to the infirmary and see if you can't make yourself useful. I will see to..._him._.."

He indicated House with a sharp twist of his head and a disdainful sneer.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied, looking up at the lanky, angular man, her eyes huge with gratitude and House could see in her expression the unsaid things she was biting back as she waited for him to reply.

Interesting. Not medically relevant, but _interesting_.

"We will meet you in the infirmary shortly. Now, if there is nothing else that you need here..." Snape replied curtly, but he allowed himself to lower his gaze to meet her eyes for a moment before he abruptly turned away from her, mustering up his best sour grimace as he faced House once more.

"Certainly sir, I shall be on my way at once," Hermione turned and began to walk away, but the professor spun suddenly and cleared his throat, stopping her in her tracks.

"Oh, and Her-erm-Granger?" he said, his voice dangerously even, "Thank you for coming to lead us back. It was cold and unpleasant out there, and for more than _one_ reason."

House waved emphatically at Hermione.

"He means me, of course!" House shouted theatrically, pointing at himself, "It's a good thing he didn't kidnap me before I took my happy pills, though the term really is a misnomer as you can probably see that I'm not-"

"Will you _shut up_?!" Snape hissed venomously, whirling around with wild eyes.

House became aware of the fact that the temperature around him had dropped sharply.

"If I do, then will _you_ finally just _kiss_ her already or am I going to have to watch meaningful glances and pained expressions for the rest of our time together?" House retorted, smiling viciously at the violent purple rising across Snape's face as the professor loomed menacingly over him.

Hermione had begun backing away slowly, her discomfort evident in her face, but when she heard House's words, her fingers flew up to her mouth as she uttered a sharp, strangled cry in the back of her throat and then turned and ran up the stairs and out of sight.

"_**Now look what you've done**_**!**" Snape shouted, his composure finally at its breaking point, "Have you never heard of a little thing called _tact_?"

He pulled the stick (_wand_, House reminded himself, _it's a magical-freaking-wand_) and pointed it at House.

"You've left me no choice," he snarled, and a pink light shot from the point of the wand and hit House in the throat.

It felt somewhat like having soda bubbles popping in his throat. The sensation was strange, not unpleasant, but as House opened his mouth to taunt the taller man once again, he found that no sound escaped his mouth. He tried speaking louder and louder until he should have been screaming. Still, he remained utterly silent.

House wasn't sure if he should be angry or impressed. And another part of him was rather glad that Cuddy did not have access to a wand, though his brain was still trying to come to terms with the idea that magic existed in his world. He grasped around for another more logical reason for the strange things he had experienced first hand (instant travel across time zones for starters), but finding none, he accepted what he had seen as truth...at least until he could find a better explanation for it.

_I suppose that this could all be a bad dream brought on by that dubious taqueria I stopped at after work, but then again, I'm not sure that a bad burrito is a believable explanation for this convoluted pain in my ass. And if it is some kind of food poisoning induced hallucination, couldn't it at least include strippers?_

Simply thinking snarky thoughts didn't really have the same effect, and House scowled, his brow furrowing more deeply as Snape smiled nastily in reply.

"You only have yourself to blame, Doctor. I would not have done that unless it was a last resort," Snape said with a withering stare, "You really do not know when to shut up, do you? But alas, I am in need of your talents, so I will keep you like this until you can learn to…._behave yourself_."

House raised both of his middle fingers silently in reply.

"You do know that here, that gesture doesn't mean what it means over in the States," Snape said evenly, his composure nearly regained from his earlier outburst.

House stuck out his tongue as though to accentuate his meaning.

"Petulant two year old," Snape sneered.

House shrugged as though to say _well, what did you expect?_

"I don't even know why I bother. Come on, then. Follow me and _do_ try to keep up. Any more interference could have serious consequences."

With that, Snape turned and strode down the hallway away from the stairwell that Hermione had ascended.

_If we're not going to the infirmary, then where-?_

House's thoughts were interrupted abruptly as Snape stopped in front of a large set of double doors.

"We are keeping them here, in the Great Hall," Snape explained, "There were too many to fit them all in the infirmary, so we are using this room as a hospital ward. St. Mungo's is so full that the school has been temporarily closed so that we can make use of the space. The Headmistress and the Minister will be arriving once they are stabilized. We will be placing them in a..._more secure location_ for safety reasons. I will ask you not to divulge their location, but then again, you won't exactly be telling anyone anything in your current condition."

He chuckled darkly, making a point to pretend not to notice House's silent tirade of expletives behind him.

With that, the door creaked open, and House smelled the unmistakable slightly sour odor of a sick room. What looked like a massive, old fashioned mess hall had been laid out with row upon row of white cots. Most of the cots were occupied, and most though not all were attended by what looked to be tearful family and friends. A couple of women wearing white robes with tiny white hats pinned to their hair flitted through the narrow aisles between the beds checking on patients.

House could see at once that the patients were, as Snape had explained earlier, not breathing, their bodies as still as death. But there was no smell of putrefaction, not even in some of the patients who had been there more than a week. House scowled as he examined the chart clipped to the foot of one of the beds nearest to where he stood.

_Patient presented with a stomach ache earlier that morning, drank some tea and was found stretched out on the ground in his study by his wife an hour later. Non responsive to any stimuli or known rejuvenation potions. Currently being dosed with Nourishment Potions and Systemic Support Potions to prevent atrophy of internal organs._

House grabbed the pen the was attached to the top part of the clipboard and scrawled onto a blank part of the page, poking Snape on the back when he was finished writing, pointing emphatically at the words written on the page.

I NEED MY TEAM. NEED TO TAKE BLOOD. NEED TO USE SCIENCE, NOT MUMBO JUMBO.

Snape rolled his eyes at House's irritated expression.

"I am well aware of your needs. We shall go over to The Three Broomsticks later and call your colleagues on the phone so they can get the appropriate things together. We have trouble with technology in the castle," he said dryly.

Suddenly, they heard the doors banging open behind them.

"OI! Where's Snape at? 'Mione said he'd be in here!" bellowed a tall, irritated young man with fiery red hair. Seeing a wide-eyed House standing next to the man in question, he approached them with an eyebrow raised at House in his jeans and T-shirt and turned to address Snape in a more normal tone of voice, "We've got a bit of a situation."

They followed him out into the hallway, shutting the doors to the Great Hall behind them with a hollow thud. There, in the hallway, stood a man with wild, black hair that stuck out of his hair every which way as though he'd just been zapped with a live wire. His round glasses made him look younger than he was, though the serious expression on his face counteracted the effect.

"We placed them in the Headmaster's Office per your instructions," the man said, "But...there's something else."

"Spit it out, Potter," Snape snapped irritably.

From behind the man, a shorter, slender red-haired woman appeared, holding a small bundle in her arms.

"He was with them when they…." she trailed off, her eyes on the bundle, which was now kicking off the white cloth with a little gurgle and…

"A baby, Weasley?" Snape said incredulously, "As much as your family is known for bringing its children into danger, this is a bit much. Exactly _why_ did you decide to bring an infant into these halls, hmmm?"

House did not like babies very much. The only thing going for the little beasts was that they were too stupid and too undeveloped to lie (of course, it didn't help that the parents often just lied _for_ them). Infants also tended to be loud, messy and terrible at communication, which were all qualities in which House did not wish to be outclassed.

"He's not mine," the woman snapped back, her eyes flashing as Snape took a little step backwards at her intense demeanor, "He's _theirs. _And it's not Weasley any longer."

"You've got to be joking."

It was said as deadpan as possible, but everyone could hear the surprise in Snape's voice.

"Ginny's not joking," the man with the glasses (Potts? Pottley? House was having trouble keeping track) said loudly, placing a reassuring arm around her, "Headmistress McGonagall and Minister Shacklebolt were keeping it a secret, what with all the attacks lately."

"Impossible! I would have known!"

House was really itching to say something snarky about the utterly shocked expression that had risen on Snape's face, but the other man, the one with red hair, beat him to it (of course, it helped that _he_ could actually talk).

"Oh really? You're going to act all surprised, now? You mean to tell me that Harry and I have been busting our arses all month long bringing sick people in for treatment for no reason whatsoever because it turns out that we actually just have a simple case of fakers pretending really, really well to be dead, and that actually, it's all a big conspiracy to throw you off the scent of finding out about a secret baby?"

Snape's features shifted almost immediately from surprise to an expression that made him look as though he'd just swallowed a bottle of tar with a lime chaser.

"While your fanciful ideas are amusing, Mr. Weasley, they are also inappropriate and wasting precious time," he rumbled menacingly as the man in question grumbled something under his breath about a greasy git, "As for you, Ginevra..._Potter_, it seems that you now have a new job, specifically to take care of..._that_."

He jabbed a long, bony finger at the wiggling babe, who began to chew doggedly on one of his fists.

"Oh, about that...I would but I can't," the woman handed the bundle to Harry abruptly, "I have practice in an hour and I'm contractually obligated to be on the field or face the wrath of my coach and the many fans of the team."

"How can you think of bloody Quidditch at a time like this? One of your siblings could be next, or maybe even your own child! Haven't you lost enough family?" Snape replied icily, obviously switching tactics.

This struck a nerve. Ginny's face went ghostly white with rage and she balled her hands into fists, bearing down on the tall professor as best she could even though she was easily more than a foot shorter than him. Both the red haired man and his black-haired friend backed up and winced instinctively. House took a cue from them and did the same.

"Don't you use that tone with me, Severus Snape!" she shouted venomously, pointing at the men behind her with a finger that shook with the same rage that filled her voice, "You may be _their_ professor still, but you're not _my_ professor and I will tell you to go to to the deepest pit of hell before I'll take orders from you! Besides, do you really want to be responsible for all of Wizarding Britain to be angry because my team can't play due to being short a member? Because, believe me, you, I am not above giving my fans your home address so they can come give you what for!"

His face went pale, which was amazing, considering his already deathly white complexion.

"You _wouldn't_!" he finally managed.

"Don't make me prove it to you," she hissed back, and it was clear she'd won.

"But...but what about...?"

The question hung in the air, unasked, but everyone knew what he meant.

"Why don't _you_ watch the little goober?" Her brown eyes were dancing with a wicked sort of mirth, "But do not peg me as a nursemaid just because of my anatomy!"

She whirled around and stormed out the entrance doors, slamming them behind her as though they weighed nothing.

Snape shot a searching glare at the two men, but the dark haired man simply handed the baby over with a sheepish expression as Weasley said, "We would, but we have to report back to the Auror head office. There's a mandatory full staff meeting in half an hour."

They too turned and left after a tense moment, and House knew what the gaunt professor was going to do even before he had begun to move.

And suddenly, House was holding the baby under his armpits and away from his body as though it were a particularly noxious bag of garbage and scowling darkly as he did so.

_You can at least give my my voice back_, he mouthed, pointing to his throat.

Snape groaned with frustration in the back of his throat as he pinched the bridge of his nose in resignation.

"_Fine_," he said tiredly, waving his wand to cast the counter-curse, "But you have to carry the little bugger to Hogsmeade so we can use the phone."

"But it's _cold_ outside! I'll...I mean, _he'll_ freeze!" House said sardonically, not wasting any time putting his restored voice to good use.

"I shall use heating charms on the babe. _You_ shall...survive..."

"Spoilsport," House muttered darkly.

"Insufferable menace!" Snape shot back.

"Kidnapper!" House said, more loudly.

"Obnoxious, foul-mouthed, troublemaking misanthrope!"

"I know you are, but what am I?"

Snape didn't say anything to that, but he did appear to be gesturing and stomping his foot while silently thinking a very large variety of swear words.

"You know, when you do that, you look a lot like Foreman when he does the same thing! I know it's hard to believe, but he's waaay more black than you. It's even his skin color and everything. Compared to him, you're just like, a poser or something."

House was grinning rudely at increasing Snape's level of irritation yet again when suddenly, he noticed that the baby had begun to smell quite horrible.

_Oh shit._

"Good lord, what is that!?" he exclaimed before he realized whose company he was still in.

"That, _Doctor_ _House_," Snape said, finally, as he opened the doors to the cold darkness outside, "Is karma."

"I always knew karma was a bitch, but this is a little much," House grumbled as the baby, his stinky job done, grinned and began to close his eyes.

"From where I am standing, I would have to say that I disagree most wholeheartedly," Snape replied, his mouth turning up in a smirk as he walked ahead, leading them down the path to Hogsmeade.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: When a House is not a Home**

"Whose idiotic idea was it to walk back out into this horrible weather?" House shouted bitterly into the icy wind, "Oh right! It was _your_ idiotic idea!"

"We are almost there," Snape replied between gritted teeth as he clutched the corners of his robes even more tightly together in the cold.

Severus Snape had never been one to drink to excess, especially after having grown up under the boot of a violent alcoholic, but he was beginning to crave a shot of Firewhiskey. Maybe even two, the way this muggle doctor kept nattering on like a loon. And of course, _of course_, he just _had_ to be American and therefore unable to keep his mouth shut for longer than a minute at a time. His head was beginning to throb and they weren't even halfway to Hogsmeade.

He hadn't wanted to resort to such an extreme measure, especially since muggles were not allowed to know of the Wizarding World and kidnapping was frowned upon just as heavily in the Wizarding World as it was outside of it, but it had been more than six months since the first case had surfaced, and more than fifty people had already perished without giving him much more to work with than a rough timeline of the progression of the mysterious disease. Many had been caught too late for the potions to have any effect. And the ones that he had saved were really only being given an extension before the inevitable. He had been experimenting and surviving without almost any sleep for months, but there had been little progress in finding an effective treatment. The Minister and Headmistress falling ill had been the final straw, and no matter the cost or the rules to be broken, he was determined to find something, _anything_ he could do.

"So, as long as I'm freezing my ass off as your hostage, do you mind giving me some more information about this disease that I'm supposed to be diagnosing?" House grumbled irritably, "Maybe it will get my mind off of having to carry Sir Stinks-A-Lot here through an ice storm."

"You would think that you'd have a higher tolerance for the cold, considering that you live in a place that snows. It could be worse, you know. You should count your blessings, actually. This is mild for early spring," Snape replied, using his long legs to his advantage as he walked briskly ahead of the irritable doctor, "And although I can smell the foul odor from over here, at least you don't have to endure any loud caterwauling."

"I don't care if we're on the moon and I'm carrying a baby with a butt that smells like roses and unicorn kisses, it sucks just the same and I reserve the right to complain about my frozen ass. Annoying you is just a bonus. Now, about this illness. Does it hit only certain age groups? Genders? Does it seem to be contagious? Are there environmental factors? What sort of...magical wizard tests have you already done?"

The man actually sounded serious for the first time since they had first met. Against his better judgement, Snape chanced a look back and realized that House was standing still in the middle of the dark path and staring back intensely with his icy blue eyes in the yellow glow of the lantern light. It would have been an intimidating display if not for the fact that he was holding a sleeping, drooling baby in one arm, and gingerly rubbing his leg with the other.

"It's starting to hurt again," he explained softly, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"If you can devise a treatment that can save them, then perhaps I can offer you something more..._permanent_...than a spell that requires regular refreshing to kill your pain," Snape said evenly, noticing the tiny beads of sweat pooling at the other man's temples.

"It's not just the pain in my leg," House hissed, his eyes darting away as though he were ashamed about what he was about to say, "It's my pills, the Vicodin. It allows me to function, but when I go without it for more than a couple of hours..."

"I see," Snape replied, his voice as emotionless as the stony expression on his face as he turned and continued ahead.

"What I need is more, or I'm going to be highly unpleasant...well...more highly unpleasant than I normally am," House continued, grunting with exertion as he limped slowly after Snape's receding black robes, "I need help, all right?! The pain is coming back and I can't think straight when it feels as though my leg is being stabbed with an ice pick every second of every day! Withdrawal from the pain meds is just the shitty cherry on top of the shit sundae of suffering that I experience every second of every day. I'm not asking you to understand. I'm asking you to _make it stop_!"

Snape stepped into a clearing that opened up into a small street. A line of shops and businesses stretched out before them, their windows dark.

"I may be able to accommodate your request," Snape said, as House finally stopped next to him, panting and wincing with pain, "But I need your word that in the meantime, you will spend more time working on helping us solve our problem and less time verbally abusing everyone you see."

"Fine!" House grumbled, "But could you just fix my leg again already? _Pretty please with sugar on top_?"

"Very well," Snape replied, his eyebrow raising slightly on one side as he pulled out his wand and silently cast the numbing spell once more, "But do be sure to remember who is standing between you and your pain."

"Arrogant bastard," House muttered, standing up straight at last.

"I believe it was you who said 'it takes one to know one,' yes?" Snape replied, "Now come. We have a phone call to make."

The Three Broomsticks reminded House of one of those trendy pub style bar-restaurants that had been popping up in the downtown area near his home, though by the looks of it, all the others had been modeled after it. There was something unmistakably old yet welcoming about the place, even though there was a CLOSED sign on the door.

Snape rapped his knuckles on the glass, and House had been ready to open his mouth to deliver a snarky comment when the door opened and a woman with a bosom that would put an Oktoberfest barmaid to shame finally opened the door with her wand at the ready, her curly blonde hair streaked with silver and blue, which somehow made her look both sophisticated and wildly beautiful. House wondered idly if witches dyed their hair the usual way or if they used magic for that too. He supposed that it wouldn't matter anyway, even if he asked. She'd probably lie about it anyway.

The woman blinked with disbelief as she pulled her shawl over her shoulders tightly to protect herself from the chill wind that poured in through the door. She dropped her wand arm to her side and an irritated expression slowly crept across her face.

"Severus? Who is he? Do you even know what time it is? And what is that _smell_? Is that...a baby?!"

"Rosmerta, I had hoped to come in where it's warm _before_ playing Twenty Questions," Snape replied sourly as the baby in question stirred and let out a small squawk before settling back into sleep, snugly surrounded by Snape's Warming Charm.

"Good lord, it _is_ a baby! Well, you had better come in, then," Rosmerta replied briskly as though she hadn't heard, "You two take a seat. I'll check to see if I have some nappies and supplies left over from last time my sister visited with my niece."

"We need to use the telephone when you have a moment," Snape said, reaching behind the bar in one smooth motion to pull out some glasses and a green glass decanter.

House eyed the liquid and looked at Snape with a raised eyebrow of his own.

"I can't hear what you just said! Just make yourselves comfortable and wait until I get back over there!" Rosmerta said, her voice muffled as she rummaged through a closet down at the end of the hall to the left of the bar.

"It's called Firewhiskey," Snape said evenly, pouring a glass for both of them, his mouth turning up in an amused smirk as House threw back his glass, downing it all in one gulp and squinted with pain as the liquid bit his mouth and burned his throat, "I suppose I should have warned you that it has that name for a reason..."

"I was going to ask you why you were being so nice to me after I was such a dick, since you're obviously not some sort of sentimental idiot," House said gruffly after he had frantically downed an entire pitcher of tap water, "But now I know that you were just trying to pay me back a bit. Good for you."

Snape smirked silently in reply.

They slowly sipped their drinks in a remarkably companionable silence as House alternated the arm he'd used to carry the baby and shifted the sleeping infant's weight to the other side.

"Well, at least Little Stinker here hasn't been exhibiting any symptoms yet," House said finally as he swirled his drink around in the bottom of the glass, "So do you mind talking a bit more about the illness itself? You know, like now, before everyone dies?"

Snape snorted into his drink despite his still somewhat chagrined mood and then slid a hand into his coat pocket, pulling out a piece of folded yellowish paper before unfolding it carefully over the shiny waxed surface of the bar.

"Is that...parchment? How medieval," House mused with a sardonic expression, "Though, I must say, not completely unexpected after seeing the castle and all. Don't tell me that I'm going to be working with leeches and people who think that illness is caused by four humours. You know, I take that back. Sticking leeches on people sounds kind of fun, actually."

Snape appeared to be about to speak once more when someone slammed a hand down on the counter loudly enough to make the liquid in the decanter slosh gently from side to side.

"You took a _muggle_ to Hogwarts?! It's bad enough that you brought him _here_!" Rosmerta exclaimed behind them and they both jumped slightly, "Severus Snape! _What were you thinking_?!"

"Yeah, what _were_ you thinking?" House said scathingly, recovering first, "Oh right! A medical mystery that no one else has been able to cure! How novel, am I right? We should totally talk about your secret handshake rules being violated instead of how people are, I dunno, dying?"

Rosmerta looked as though she'd been slapped.

"Of all the muggles in the world, I suppose you just _had_ to bring the one that most resembles your own personality, didn't you?" she replied shrilly, pointing at House, "Honestly, whatever were you thinking?"

Snape merely shrugged nonchalantly as he sipped his drink, but his black eyes glinted with quiet amusement.

Rosmerta rounded on House with her hands on her hips.

"And _you_! Coming in here and acting like you're God's gift to the world! Hand me that baby, now, before your bitterness rubs off on 'im!"

Babe in hand, she turned abruptly and went back down the hall, ducking through a doorway on the right with her nose in the air.

"You are aware that's not how it works, right?" House called after her, shaking out his arm now that it was finally free and turning back to Snape with a rude looking grin and cupping his mouth so that his words loudly echoed down the hall, "I don't know about you, but if she has half that level of energy in bed, then sign me up! Yowza! Can you tell I like her? I thought that maybe I might be coming across too subtle for her to notice!"

A disgusted huff echoed down the hall in reply.

"She won't be back for awhile, now," House said, his voice going flat and serious, "So how about we talk about what you brought me here in the first place for. Your great mystery. _My case_."

"Do you think it is at all possible for you to simply be silent for more than a couple seconds at a time?" Snape said sourly, "And here I was, thinking that I might be able to finish my drink at the very least."

"Very well," House said, clicking his tongue as turned back to his surly companion, "How 'bout them Bears?"

"_Excuse me_?" Snape replied disparagingly.

"It's a baseball team. You know, 'Da Bears and Da Bulls?' No? Fine. Let's talk business."

House grabbed a corner of the parchment and pulled it closer to himself as Snape poured another small glass of Firewhiskey with a vice-like grip, his face indifferent and still as he glanced over. House looked over the parchment for another moment and then stared back with ambivalent eyes.

"Walk me through the symptoms."

"Patients present first with shortness of breath, then dizziness. Then they rapidly lose their various senses, usually starting with sight, then hearing, smell, taste and then touch," Snape drawled, "It's all right there in the report, if you would take a moment from your oh-so-busy schedule of being an insufferable annoyance and _read it_."

"Well _you_ should know that I can't ask a report questions so it's useless on its own. Too bad so sad, you're stuck with me. Moving on! Were you able to verify that a patient loses taste before touch?" House asked skeptically.

"Not exactly, no," Snape replied, "But one victim of the disease was eating a midnight snack when he fell under its effects, and according to his wife, he was complaining about how his biscuits had lost their scent. Since scent is intimately tied to taste, and the victim was able to be roused once or twice before advanced symptoms set in, I assumed that it was the case."

"Fair enough," House replied, narrowing his eyes as he read on, "It says here that the body immediately becomes rigid, even before breathing and heartbeat have fully ceased. That doesn't make any sense."

"We were stumped as well," Snape said pensively, frowning as he took another sip, "When normal death occurs, rigor mortis takes awhile to fully set in, but in patients suffering from this condition, rigidity presents first, then breathing stops altogether, and finally the heartbeat slows until it ceases to beat. The whole process seems to take about two hours after the onset of preliminary symptoms, though it seems to work faster in the elderly and the very young."

"Do you have a list of the victims?" House said, looking over the parchment as though such a list would pop out at him magically.

"Yes, but there may still be some that have not yet been tracked down."

"_Well_?"

Snape rolled his eyes and dug deeply into another pocket in his jacket.

"Patience, doctor," he said, his lip curling slightly as though it were reflexive.

Finally, he pulled a roll of parchment from the depths of his jacket and handed it to House.

"This one had to be rolled as it is far longer than the other. Deaths are at the top and current patients in stasis are on the bottom," he said by way of explanation.

House emitted a low whistle as he unrolled the parchment and it rolled off of the table and practically hit the floor.

"You _have_ been a busy boy. Now, you do know that I'm going to have to run some tests and I'm going to need access to my team...well...Foreman at the very least. He's one of those n-words," House said sardonically, "You know, a _neurologist_. Also, he's useful to have on hand in case we need a little b&e, if you catch my drift. No? Well, what you don't know can't get you arrested as accessory to a crime, am I right? So, what was that again about getting access to a phone?"

Snape eyed him suspiciously.

"You know what it is after so few questions?"

House leveled his furrowed brow at the dark professor before replying.

"I have some ideas. Besides, it's a whole hell of a lot less fun when I solve a potentially interesting case within the first five minutes of looking at it."

This was too much for Snape, whose face contorted into a scowl of silent rage.

"You would play with the lives of _suffering people_?" he hissed through gritted teeth, "What sort of monster are you?"

"The sort of monster who wants _his damn phone call _since you so helpfully abducted him without his cell phone and dropped him in the middle of freaking Narnia!" House shouted back irritably, "I get it! You're mad at me for making light about your sick and dying, well _I'm _mad because I was already working on a case when you waltzed into my life and I'm still not even sure that she's going to pull through. And there's no guarantee that I'm going to figure out what your leaders are suffering from! Sometimes we don't find the answer until it's too late! Sometimes doctors make mistakes and people _die_! The thing that nobody seems to get about doctors is that we're not gods. We don't magically find all the answers. I'm a man of _science_, goddamn it, not hocus pocus. Now you're telling me that magic is real, that somehow everything that I have known to be true is wrong. Don't you think that this might just put me a _little_ on edge, regardless of how smart and adorably misanthropic I am?! For all I know, this disease is something that _can't_ be cured, at least not by any means I would have an inkling of understanding at this point. Or maybe it's not a disease at all! So I'm going to use my goddamn life line and call someone who can help me to help you so that hopefully, you and I will _never have to see one another again_!"

For a moment, it seemed as though Snape was about to open his mouth and begin to shout, but instead, he merely took a deep breath and yawned as though House was boring him to death. Of course, The irritable doctor had no choice but to yawn a minute or so later reflexively, but that didn't stop him from trying to delay himself from doing it.

"Now, if you are well and truly done with your little tantrum," Snape said slowly, drawing himself up to his full height until he was looming over House like a spectre, "I shall return shortly with the item you require."

He silently stalked around the bar and down the hall to the back rooms of the tavern, returning shortly after with what appeared to be a very antique rotary phone. The odd thing was that it did not appear be attached to any cords, and instead of numbers, strange stones with odd markings adorned the dialing wheel.

House frowned dubiously at it.

"How do I use it?" He asked, folding his arms, "I don't have a wand and I can't read that gobbledygook."

Snape glowered back exasperatedly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It is not Gobbledegook, that is only used on Goblin-made devices. For your information, they're _runes_. But I didn't expect you to know that. You simply pick up the receiver, push down on the line clearing mechanism under the cradle, place your hand on the dialing wheel and then close your eyes while focusing on the person you wish to call. The device will do the rest. Do you understand?"

"Way ahead of you," House replied, ignoring Snape's sneer as he grabbed the receiver and cleared the line, his eyes widening when he heard a rather mundane sounding dial tone in his ear.

Rosmerta picked that moment to return with a very awake, very squirmy infant.

"What are you-oh! I see you helped yourself to that thingamajigger. I still don't see why Hermione would want to leave it here. No one ever uses it but you or her."

Snape scoffed and crossed his arms again as the barmaid attempted to hand the baby to him.

"Rosmerta, I've told you many times that the wards and barriers around Hogwarts interfere with the device's function. This is the closest we can bring it to the school and still make reliable calls that don't sound like we're under water or breathing helium."

"Do you two mind?" House said loudly, "It's pretty hard to concentrate on my call when all I can think of is how _boring_ it sounds in here!"

Just then, the line began to dial and ring steadily in his ear, and when the other end picked up, House grinned evilly despite himself.

"Hello Wilson, old buddy old pal," he said, ignoring the sleepy groan on the other end of the line, "Guess where _I'm_ calling from?"


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Summoning the Minions**

"House. I should have known," came the sleep-choked reply, "Do you have any idea what time it is, or are you calling me _because_ it's Godawful-o-clock? And don't tell me you got yourself thrown in jail again, because I'm not bailing you out. You've got five seconds to explain yourself before I hang up on you and go back to bed."

"I wouldn't call you if I was arrested for anything less serious than murder, because what's the fun in that? But no, I haven't been arrested. What if I told you that I have been kidnapped instead? Would that pique your interest?" House asked conversationally.

"House, you didn't call me this late..._early_...to make jokes, now _what do you want_?" Wilson said, his voice growing annoyed.

"I'll just ignore the part where you completely dismissed the fact that I'm the captive of a bunch of denizens of mythical, magical Narnia. No matter. I need you to do a couple things for me. It's _super duper_ top secret, so I'll wait while you go get a pad of paper and a pen," House continued briskly, "Oh, and you'll need to call Foreman too. You can also give Cameron and Chase a call if you're feeling ambitious"

"Call him yourself! And I'm not going to go and run errands for you in the wee hours of the morning. I'm sorry, House, but you gravely underestimate my love of sleep _and_ my irritation at you. It can wait for the morning."

House looked over at Snape, who gave him a warning look.

"Only give them the bare minimum information," he said darkly, "It would be a shame if you had to endure the _excruciating_ pain in your leg again because you can't seem to keep your mouth shut when it matters. I fear that the more irritated I get at a person, the less likely I am to remember _important pain-numbing spells_."

"Wilson, listen," House said, turning away and speaking as quietly as he could, "They're threatening to hurt me unless I help them with a case. I called you because you're my friend and I need your help."

Wilson snorted softly, "I may be dead tired, but I'm not stupid. You just forgot your cell phone with you and you know that I haven't changed my number since 1998."

"You're only partially right," House replied sheepishly, "I didn't forget my phone. I was freaking _abducted_ before I could grab it from the kitchen counter. And I've never thought you were stupid. Just a bit gullible and overly trusting. Which, trust me, isn't a bad thing to be."

"Well, we all can't be misanthropic rays of sunshine," Wilson said exasperatedly, and House knew he was going to fold. He just needed to be pushed a little more.

"Yes? _And_?"

"Fine, _fine_, if it's _that_ important to you," Wilson grumbled, rustling around for a pen and paper, and House could imagine the tired oncologist throwing his hands up in the air, "Ok, I'm ready. What do you need?"

"Have the kidlets look up coma disorders and anything environmental or chemical that can present with the appearance of death without killing immediately. Death occurs roughly five to seven days after onset. It's possible that it's some sort of virus or bacteria, but my money's on neurological. That's why I need Foreman. But don't tell him that or he might get an over inflated ego and we can't have that."

"Woah, woah, wait a minute. You mean to tell me that there really _is_ a case? One involving a fatal disease? House, what if it's incurable? What if you get it next?"

"If I've been exposed, it's too late now, but I'm not altogether sure that it's all that virulent, or there would be a whole lot more sick and dying people. _Moving on!_ Also have my team look at known fungal, bacterial and viral infections, especially focusing on critters that thrive in colder northern climates. If it lives at the sunny equator or thrives in the rainforest, I'm not interested. Have them round up a short list of likely suspects and I'll be in touch."

"What about samples? Bloodwork? Things for your team to do science to?"

"Not happening. We're going strictly medieval here. I've even been promised the chance to conduct a good old fashioned bleeding with leeches and everything!" House smirked at the irritated glance he received from Snape.

"I hope you're joking!" Wilson sounded horrified.

"From where I'm standing, I'm not even sure I'm joking," House quipped flippantly, looking up at the bottles of liquor on the glass shelves behind the bar and noticing that one of them appeared to have eyeballs floating in it, "I'll let you know if I need anything else. Smell ya later, Wilson!"

"Wait! House! What's your phone number, just in case we need to call you?" Wilson was sounding worried now, which was a bad sign. A worried Wilson was far more useless than an annoyed one.

"Sorry! Can't stay and chat! The kidnappers need to use the phone now. They've got some baby seal clubs to order. I hear they're designed specifically to make a satisfying crunching noise when they connect with their intended target."

House looked at Snape's irritated scowl and mouthed _what?_

"House, stop being an ass and tell me already." Wilson's voice sounded surprisingly calm, which meant that he was actually close to freaking out. House cursed silently at his friend's incessant need to be concerned about others, especially _him_.

"Do I have to put it any more plainly? I have to play by their rules or I get to be in pain. I'll call you soon if you're wrong and it's not horribly contagious."

"And if you don't call back?"

"Then I'm probably dead. But I won't worry about that unless it happens."

"I know that voice. You only get like this when you have no idea what you're dealing with."

"So? You're not my mom! I can diagnose whoever I want!" House shouted sardonically.

"That isn't helping either, House, and you know it."

"Get my team to start work on my patients," House muttered, his hand sliding down to his leg and rubbing over the dead muscle there even though the pain had not yet returned, "And I'll call you soon. Ciao!"

He placed the receiver in the cradle and stared down at the telephone in an intense and focused silence. His mind was racing, pulling information from his memory pertaining to what he knew about the mysterious disease, and he kept coming up with blanks. He needed to know more.

"Hey! Snake!" House said irritably, turning in his seat until he was facing the dark professor.

"It's Snape. With a 'p.' I know that your tiny American mind may have trouble grasping basic concepts like names, but I expect you to at least make an attempt at using the correct ones," Snape replied dryly.

Rosmerta had disappeared with the baby at some point, probably to put the little wiggly beast down to sleep, and he knew objectively how painful a rudely awakened infant could be to the eardrums, but House could not control the fury that filled him. His eyes burned with anger as he spoke.

"Ok, now you've gone too far! Take that back!" House snarled, "You can make fun of my cane, the leg, even my scruffy permanent 6 o'clock shadow, but you do _not_ insult my intelligence! Or are _you_ so unbelievably brainless that you would choose an incompetent doctor to diagnose your people? So I guess you have to ask yourself, are _you_ that stupid?"

The pale visage of the man across from him seemed to darken for a moment before going blank and still as though all emotion had been purged from his body. House had expected yelling. He expected anger.

What he did not expect was for Snape to fix him with a piercing serious look and say simply:

"Perhaps I was wrong."

House felt his eyes go wide without conscious thought and he stood, taking a number of indignant steps to close the distance between the two of them until they were no more than a foot apart, which did nothing but accentuate Snape's superior height and did quite the opposite of the intimidating display that he had intended.

"_What did you say_?!" House snapped, jabbing an accusatory finger up at Snape's hooked nose, "You drag me here and give me the most interesting case I've had in years and now you 'might be wrong'? _Bullshit_."

Snape took a deep breath and fixed House with an unimpressed expression of deepest loathing.

"I had hoped that I made myself clear earlier," Snape said dispassionately, looking down his nose at the raging man before him, "_I_ may not like you as a person, and granted, I know that I myself am not very likeable either, _and_ as loath as I am to admit it, I still believe that you are the best hope we have of finding a proper treatment for this..._affliction_."

He paused, and his black eyes flashed in the torchlight. House had begun to open his mouth to interrupt but the intimidating effect that the tall professor had upon him made him think better of it, and he simply glared silently back.

"**However**," Snape continued, his tone as much a warning as the severity of his body language, "You have gone above and beyond the call of duty in trying my patience to the breaking point. Exactly how do you expect to continue with _your precious case_ when you appear to be hellbent on destroying any hope of getting anyone to cooperate with you? You may not have noticed yet, but you are not in your hospital. You are in _our world_, and as such, you need to start acting like it. Now, do you want me to take you back to your door stop, take your memories and give you back your pain, or do you want to act like a goddamn adult for a couple of hours and save _my people_?"

House actually appeared to be speechless for once, which seemed to surprise both men. When he finally recovered, he found himself absently running his hand through his hair and frowning at the ground before looking up with a serious and determined air.

"It's been a long night. For both of us. I'd like to get a couple hours of sleep soon, for all of our sakes. I can't promise that I'll be the paradigm of friendliness afterwards, but it will be easier for me to function without biting people's heads off every five seconds especially if I'm pain-free thanks to your...spell...and if that is amenable to you, then I think we can reach some sort of understanding. I've already got Wilson and my team starting work on the research part of this puzzle. It would be a shame to stop now. Deal?"

House held out his hand slowly. Snape eyed it suspiciously at first, but then took it in his own surprisingly smooth cool hand and they shook firmly.

"There are extra guest rooms at the castle," Snape said, his expression sliding back into that neutral mask from before, "I shall set one up for you to stay in. Breakfast is served in one of the upstairs classrooms at eight o'clock on the dot since the Great Hall is being used as a sick room. Normally it's earlier, but with school suspended in light of the disease, we've pushed it forward an hour. I shall send a house elf to you first thing in the morning."

House didn't know what to say about the mention of _house elves_, so he simply jumped to a train of thought that made logical sense to him.

"I thought the Headmistress was one of the patients," House replied suspiciously, "But the way you talk, you sound like you know a lot more about this school than the average professor."

"You would be correct in your assumption," Snape replied, his face betraying no emotion, "I used to be Headmaster of Hogwarts a little less than a decade ago, but I will not bore you with the details. Now that Minerva has taken ill, the responsibilities fall to me, and I intend to do everything I can to restore her to her proper position when all is said and done. You shall have your sleep and then you shall have access to any information that may aid you in working out your..._puzzle_. I shall also send up some books to your room that may be of use to you in diagnosing our patients. Magical folk do not always get the same illnesses as mug...non-magical people, that is."

"Well, great, it's settled then," House said briskly, looking dubiously out the pub's windows into the frosty darkness outside, "I guess there's nothing more to do here so it's time to get back out into the cold."

Someone cleared their throat behind them and the two men turned, noticing that Rosmerta was standing at the head of the hallway wiping her hands on an apron that she'd pulled around her middle and winched tight, accentuating her generous curves even more than before. House tried not to stare at her and failed miserably.

"The little'un is down fast asleep," she said softly, "I had to bother Aberforth for some goat's milk, but once it was warmed up and placed in a bottle, the little guy ate like a champ and settled down right away."

"Good for him," House said wryly, gesturing at the scowling professor with a nod of his head, "But that only reminds me of all of the sleep that I'm not getting because of Stabby Schnoz here."

Snape gave him a warning look and House rolled his eyes before continuing.

"Sorry. I'm cranky. The _Professor_ here was telling me that we need to get back up to the castle, so I suppose I'll see you later. Maybe next time, you might even like what I have to say."

"That's doubtful," Rosmerta said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated vigor.

"You never know. I might grow on you," House said, winking exaggeratedly back at her as she folded her arms and huffed.

"Rosmerta, I would appreciate it if you could take care of the baby until tomorrow morning at the very least," Snape said, his voice going very soft and velvety, quite unlike anything House had heard slip from the darkly clad man's lips before, "It would be such a shame if we had to carry him back to the castle in the cold. He would probably wake up and be inconsolable. Plus, you mentioned that Aberforth has offered goat's milk to help satisfy the boy while his mother is..._indisposed_…Please, if not for me, then do it for Minerva and Kingsley."

Rosmerta's eyes had taken on a slight glazed quality as she listened to the timbre of his voice, and she nodded gently in reply.

"I'll do it," she said finally, "But only because you've got more manners in your little finger than that man over there has in his entire body! And I still can hardly believe that little angel is...are you sure it's Minerva's? She's...so advanced in age! I mean, I know that witches have the ability to start families later in life than muggles, but…."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and then looked back at her sternly, silencing the barmaid immediately. House shot the man an approving look. He could respect a man with the capability to make someone go quiet without saying a thing as long as it wasn't directed at him.

"I appreciate your help, Rosmerta, but we are all very tired, and in order for us to work on curing the poor souls afflicted with this disease, we must leave immediately for Hogwarts. There will be plenty of time for you to ask Minerva all of your burning questions once she is healed. Remember, every second counts. Our patients do not have much time left, and the disease progresses more quickly in some than others."

Rosmerta's expression darkened with concern.

"Of course, you're absolutely right. I will protect the child as though he were my own in the meantime," she said fiercely, "Now shoo, you two! Get back out there and save those poor people! We're all counting on you!"

She looked dubiously at House.

"Even though _that one_ could use more than a little attitude adjustment," she continued.

"I _knew_ you only liked me for my killer bod," he quipped, before turning and heading towards the door.

"_Ignore him_," Snape said exasperatedly, "I shall be back later tomorrow if I can to make sure that all is well. If the boy begins to show symptoms, send a patronus immediately."

"Goodnight, Professor," Rosmerta said, raising her voice to address House, "And goodnight to you too, Dr. Sourpuss. For all the trouble you've caused, you'd better be as good as he says you are!"

"I'm not," House said smugly as he twisted the knob and stepped out into the frozen night, "I'm _better_."

And without another word, the two men disappeared into the darkness back towards the castle, the bitterly cold wind pushing firmly against them as they cleared the treeline and were gone from sight.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Medieval Morning Madness**

A loud pop jarred House out of a sound sleep and he groaned as he rubbed his leg out of habit, his eyes snapping open when he realized that it was still pain free.

_It hadn't all been a dream, had it?_

"Excuse the interruption, Sir," a timid voice said from the foot of the bed, "But the Headmaster wishes to see Sir."

The face that peered up at him had a long, gnarled yet pointy nose, gigantic cornflower blue eyes and a shocking amount of hair jutting out of long, pointy ears as though two ends of a handlebar mustache had been shoved into either side. The face was smooth and lined in a manner that suggested both infancy and great age at the same time. A clean white dish towel was wrapped around the creature's body like a toga, an embroidered H spread across the front.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" House asked suspiciously, "Some kind of….gnome?"

"I is not dirty, stealing gnome! I serves!" the creature said proudly, "Sir may call Nib by name if it pleases! Nib is proud to call himself a house elf!"

House's memory suddenly flashed back to something that Snape fellow had said the night before.

"You're here to take me to breakfast," House said slowly.

It was not a question.

"Headmaster says that Nib must bring Sir with haste!" Nib said, twisting at his ears with an expression that House supposed might have been anxiety.

"It's your lucky day. I slept in my clothes," House grumbled, pulling himself stiffly out of bed, trying not to look overly happy about the fact that his pain had still not yet returned. He'd had enough experience to know that being optimistic only ever led to being disappointed.

The mattress and pillow had been surprisingly comfortable, though House was not about to tell anyone, much less this odd, slouching creature. And although the room around him was far more medieval than his personal taste would have preferred, the large fireplace and tall, thin windows lent an odd sort of ambiance that _was_ rather impressive. Chancing another sideways look at the house elf, House came to the realization that they quite eerily resembled children with Propecia; young but somehow old at the same time.

"Is Sir ready?" Nib asked cautiously, his bat-like ears fanning up and down nervously in a manner that made House wonder if he was about to lift off and hover in the air.

"I suppose so, yeah," House grumbled, ruffling his hair with one of his hands and running his other hand across his chin to feel the more-than-stubble-but-not-quite-a-beard growth on his face.

Snape didn't look like the sort of man to have stubble anywhere. Was that thanks to magic as well? Did any of these backwards, robe-wearing weirdos even know what a safety razor was, let alone what it _did_? It was paradoxical to be in a place without any technology more complex than a flushing toilet, yet be witness to abilities that could kill his pervasive pain in a manner that even the Vicadin only dulled down to a manageable level of suffering.

"Sir, please take my hand," Nib said with a hesitant smile that struck House as unnervingly creepy.

"I only hold hands on the second date," House said sardonically, but when Nib's eyes began to fill with tears at his refusal, he finally held out his index finger reluctantly.

"It will be but a moment, Sir," Nib said apologetically, "Nib will do his best to make the journey painless."

"Wait, wha-?!" was all House managed before the world had turned inside out again and for a second time, House felt himself being pulled into darkness with a loud POP.

* * *

><p>"Ah, I see that the prodigal physician has deemed us worthy to join for breakfast," came Snape's biting drawl as House opened his eyes in quite the strangest room than he'd ever seen before. Nib dipped low to the floor in a small, polite bow as he dropped House's finger gently. A small pop signalled his disappearance, and it was as though he had never been there.<p>

_Curiouser and curiouser._

Allowing himself to stretch to his full height, House took a moment to survey the room that Nib had transported him, ostensibly on Snape's orders. At some point in the recent past, it had obviously been some sort of classroom, as a large desk and chalkboard still stood at the head of the room. Where the desks would have been, however, now stood long tables and benches in four rows that seemed to stretch impossibly outward and House had the uncomfortable sensation that they were far longer than the room they resided within. He looked up and noticed that thousands of candles appeared to be hovering in the air above them all just out of reach, giving the room a hearty glow even as the high tall windows on one side filtered in the harsh morning light. A giant skeleton of something that looked a bit like a dinosaur with wings was suspended from the ceiling by thick black chains. House felt his mouth hang open in awe despite his attempts to hide it.

_Showoffs._

He snorted at the thought that they'd done all of this for _his_ benefit, for all he knew it was the way they normally handled breakfasts, but it felt somewhat comforting to be the obvious guest of honor. The sound of quiet conversation and the metallic clicking of utensils fell away to silence as everyone stared at him.

House stared back defiantly with his head held high, raising his hand awkwardly to wave at the more obvious gawking wizards. He became painfully aware that he was the only one wearing jeans and a t-shirt covered with the rather ratty gray sweater he'd grabbed from the floor and pulled over his head as a temporary measure against the chill while he had been waiting for the heater to warm things up before his whole night had taken such an unexpected turn.

But his house was a million miles away now, a distance that as well have been a universe away.

One of the tables held a motley crew of people, including a tall, massive man with an equally massive beard who would have given Andre the Giant pause and a diminutive man with rectangular spectacles who appeared to be sitting on a small painting ladder in order to reach his plate. The young woman with bushy hair who had led them back to the castle the night before was sitting to Snape's right holding a half-eaten piece of toast as she stared at him. This morning, she wore dark emerald green robes that seemed to draw out a bronze sheen to her wild snarls of hair that if anything were even more wild than the night before. House tried to remember her name. Her-something. Like in that Shakespeare play. Hermione. That was it. People here sure didn't seem to have any concept of normal names. She fixed him with a suspicious glare, stuffed the toast in her mouth and crossed her arms in distrust.

House smirked at this. She had the exact same expression that always came across Cameron's face after he suggested some wildly inappropriate treatment that would either cure the patient or kill them dead. Sometimes it did a bit of both, just to make it interesting, and Cameron's face would get that baby-doll eyed look as she pushed herself to solve the case all the while trying futilely to emotionally support everyone around her until she fell apart. Her capacity to love was at once her best and worst quality. House hoped that this Hermione woman would not be a similar pain in his ass, though if she truly was a fan of older men, House had no problem with using that to his advantage. After all, even a doctor has needs.

Snape, on the other hand, carried a bored expression on his face as he locked eyes with the irritable doctor, inclining his head and gesturing slightly with one hand to indicate an open seat on his left. A clean plate and a mug of juice materialized and House rolled his eyes, determined not to appeared amazed by magic.

"Sorry I'm late!" House shouted grumpily, noticing that his leg had begun to twinge softly in time to his heartbeat, "I was too busy with my morning routine, and by morning routine, I mean MASTURBATING!"

At this, Hermione uttered what sounded like a small choked scream and covered her mouth, a bright scarlet blush rising up to her forehead. House smirked evilly. It had worked even more perfectly than he had hoped it would, though no one else's reactions seemed to be nearly as overt. When he looked back at Snape, the man had merely raised an eyebrow as though to silently express his complete lack of shock.

_Bastard. Ruining all my fun._

House hobbled around to the open place and sat down with a grunt.

"My leg hurts," he complained.

"Perhaps you should limit any...strenuous activity, then," Snape replied, not looking away from his soft-boiled egg.

"What, like you don't do it?" House shot back, the dirty insinuation clear.

"Unlike you," Snape replied disdainfully, "I tend to find that any private activities that I do or do not engage in are not appropriate conversational topics at the breakfast table. Now, eat your breakfast. You will be enjoying a long, arduous day and I fully intend for you to keep up your end of our deal."

"My leggggggggg!" House whined.

"Very well," Snape grumbled, rolling his eyes and he pulled his wand, cast the spell and went right back to nibbling the white of his egg in one smooth, swift motion.

"Impressive," House said, grabbing some toast from the middle of the table, "You're almost like a surgeon with that thing. Would you ever consider-?"

"No," Snape interrupted, "You don't have the..._aptitude_...to use a wand, and even if you did, taking another's wand is considered as intimate as grabbing one by the family jewels, if you understand my meaning. A wand's allegiance, much like a wizard's heart, must be won fairly or the results can be...fatal."

"Forget I asked," House said, "If you're going to make it into a dirty sex thing before I can make it into a dirty sex thing to humiliate and irritate you, then there's no way I'm going to want to touch your wand, literally or figuratively."

"Never fear. The feeling is mutual," Snape shot back with a sneer.

"Although," House continued, narrowing his eyes and looking over at Hermione, who was in an animated discussion with the man of incredibly short stature, "I think I could probably suggest a candidate who feels differently about your _wand_."

"Careful," Snape hissed warningly, "It would be quite a shame if you were to lose your voice again."

They both scarfed down the rest of their meal in silence, and when Snape stood and strode out, House took it as his cue to follow.

"How can you _not_ be hitting that?" House hissed, as he followed Snape through the door into the hallway, "Because I would totally hit that."

"I do not engage in physical abuse, even though I've recently met an abrasive physician who is making me reconsider my stance on violence," Snape replied venomously.

"No, not like actually _hit_," House sighed, "I mean, like..._you know_…"

He discreetly made a circle with his thumb and forefinger and then slid his left index finger back and forth through the circle until Snape finally turned to him, the color rising in his face.

"For your information, _Dr. House_," Snape said quietly, "Miss Granger is my _student_. She is getting her Mastery in potions as part of her work with Magical Law Enforcement. Though she is a bright and advanced pupil, she is not due to take her final exams at the Ministry until June, but that's only if there still _is_ a Ministry left by June. I don't even know why I'm telling you, suffice to say that it is inappropriate on multiple levels, not to mention that we're in the middle of a bloody epidemic!"

They turned a corner and began to descend down some old stone steps that had been worn smooth by many years of foot traffic. House delighted in being able to keep up with the unrelenting pace set by dark Professor. Without the pain, he felt freer than he had in years, and regardless of the insanity in the past eight hours, he was beginning to feel his sour mood lifting for the first time in years.

_And I'm not the only one who needs something to counteract the bile that's built up inside._

"She's got to be at _least_ twenty-five years old, though!" House said loudly as he caught his breath at the foot of the stairs and raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Don't tell me that wizards are so old-fashioned that you all require a ring on your finger before you'll do the deed."

They continued down a long hall and up another flight of stairs, but now it seemed that Snape was keeping to a steady speed that House could easily match, even though he showed no sign of having done so consciously.

"Miss Granger will be twenty-eight in September," Snape said, frowning slightly and turning back to look at House as they slowed down in front of a large stone statue, "But even if she were not my student, she is still far too young. I am..._not suitable_...for someone as whole and full of joy as she is."

"Screw that logic!" House replied hotly, crossing his arms defiantly, "You'll never be happy if you try and convince yourself that you don't want her just because it's inconvenient or from some misplaced notion of chivalry! You can convince yourself as much as you want that you're doing it for her, but it's not that at all. It's because _you_ are afraid. Because you are terrified that she's not going to feel the same way. And you're even more afraid that she _will_. Because you know that if you're happy for even one minute, something is going to happen to ruin it and it's probably going to be something you say or do."

Snape did not reply to this. Instead, he turned to look at the statue and made a motion with his hand without drawing his wand. House jumped back in surprise as the creature jumped aside as though it were made of flesh and blood and froze once more to let them pass.

House could not control his curiosity and poked the cool stone as he passed it, jerking his hand back when the stone head turned abruptly, its grey eyes set in shadow, staring at him balefully.

"Face it," House grumbled, trying to recover from his shock as they entered a large room filled from floor to ceiling with paintings, "You're a _coward_."

Snape whirled, his face contorting in fury.

"You know _nothing_!" he hissed.

"I've seen how she looks at you, and I've been here less than a day," House replied, unperturbed, "You can keep on denying it, but it's even _more_ obvious than the nose on your face."

"Oh, very pithy. I've certainly _never_ heard that one before," Snape replied sarcastically, crossing his arms, "But as much as I'd simply _love_ to continue talking about my lack of romantic prospects for your amusement, there are more pressing matters for us to attend to at the moment."

"Severus? Who is this?"

The voice had come from somewhere inside of the room. A large, burgundy leather chair was turned away towards the fire and House approached it cautiously.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked, furrowing his brow.

"I like to have a conversation with a person I can see, unless you're suggesting that I'm talking to a ghost," House replied sardonically, reaching the chair in three quick strides.

The chair was empty.

House turned back to face the black-robed professor, his eyes wide with confusion.

"Can you see dead people? Because I can't see anything," he said, trying not to allow his voice to waver with the unease he felt twisting in his belly.

"Well...not exactly," Snape replied, his eyes darting over to the wall.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" House replied exasperatedly, "Because if you've rigged things so that someone jumps out and shouts 'boo,' I'm going to be sorely disappointed."

"I have done no such thing," Snape replied, his tone thick with offense at the very idea that House would even suggest such a notion.

"Please, come over here so I can take a look at you," the voice said with a soft chuckle, "Severus, if you would point our guest in the right direction?"

"This way," Snape grumbled, pointing a long finger at the wall of portraits.

A man wearing purple glittering robes with twinkling blue eyes waved merrily from one of the frames.

"You've got to be kidding me," House said skeptically, peering closely at the moving image within the frame.

"You must be Doctor Gregory House," the man in the painting said affably, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"And you are?" House asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore," the man replied with a kindly smile, "And I am glad that Severus finally decided to bring you up here."

"And why is that?" House replied, looking askance at Snape before looking back at the long-bearded image of a kindly old man who now seemed to be clacking some kind of hard candy against his teeth.

"Because," Dumbledore said, his voice filling with the sort of authoritative timbre that belied a sense of expansive power that filled the room, "You very well may be our last hope."

House's face seemed to go expressionless from shock for a moment as he turned back to look at Snape once more. Then he grinned wildly.

"Now _this guy here_," House said, pointing back at Dumbledore, who smiled genially in his frame, "This guy knows what he's talking about."

Snape merely groaned with exasperation.

"Now, take me to my patients," House continued, "It's time I earn my keep, don't you think?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Snape replied morosely.

"Lead the way, _monsieur. Chip chop chip!_" House said flippantly as Snape rolled his eyes and widened the distance between them.

"I have high hope for you, Doctor House," Dumbledore said kindly from his frame, "And I am sure that Severus will give you access to anything you may need to succeed."

"What can I say?" House said, "_Anything I need_. Do you hear that, _Severus_?"

"Ugh! Albus, _don't encourage him_!" Snape said disparagingly.

"My apologies, Severus. I often forget that I'm no longer part of the game, so to speak. I shall leave you both to your work," Dumbledore said softly, and without another word, he stepped out of the frame and disappeared.

Snape pressed a hidden button on small stone statue near the bookcase and a hidden door slid open in the marble face of the wall to their right. A faint green glow emanated from within.

"They're both in here," he said sourly, sweeping his hand over to indicate the dark room beyond, "Their charts have been kept up to date with all relevant information that we've been able to gather."

"Well, then," House said, rubbing his hands together, "Ooh, I've always wanted to say this."

"_What_, exactly?"

"It's time to get _medieval_ on their asses."


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Patience, Patients, Patience**

"What the hell is this?!" House shouted, gesturing at the table of potions and ingredients with an accusatory finger, "As strange as it sounds, when I said we were going to go medieval on their asses, I didn't mean _literally_ medieval. Unless you've got leeches. Then maybe I can have a little _fun_ while I'm here anyway."

Snape just looked at him pointedly with a sneer.

"Oh come ON! You've got to work with me here." House snapped.

Snape snorted derisively and stared darkly at the irritated doctor but simply stood motionless in the backlit doorway.

"Don't give me that! _You_ wanted _me_ to help. And _I_ have become sufficiently interested. As a bonus, I don't have to talk to the damn patients since they are, for all intents and purposes, _dead_! I'm here with bells on and all you can do is stand there with your arms folded like an idiot? Do you have, I dunno, a thermometer? Let's just start with basics, here." House held his hand out expectantly.

"Well, since you asked so _nicely_, I took the liberty of picking up some..._muggle_ medical equipment...from someone I know who has an obsession with the stuff," Snape said sardonically, turning swiftly to his right and opening a cabinet on the other side of the room.

From the drawer, he produced an old fashioned black hinged doctor's bag, his slim fingers sliding around the distressed leather and tossing it over at House abruptly.

"_Here. Catch_," he said, slowly pronouncing each word.

House had to jump a little to his right and the bag slammed into his shoulder, knocking the wind out of him.

"Thanks," he said gruffly as he caught his breath, "Bastard."

"I shall take that as a complement," came the reply.

"You shouldn't."

Snape chucked darkly.

"Then I will do so on principle- the principle being that it _annoys_ _you_."

House opened the top of the bag and coughed when a cloud of dust puffed out of the bag into his face.

"Exactly how _old_ are these things, anyway?" he wheezed as he coughed and waved the cloud of dust out of his face.

"I wouldn't know. _I'm_ not the muggle enthusiast," Snape quipped, shrugging almost theatrically to accentuate the point.

"Well, if I'm going to use any of these museum pieces on your super important patients, I'm going to need to get them clean and sterile," House replied scathingly, "Unless, of course, you really want them getting secondary infections, because I could totally be up for that if you are."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Snape replied with a glare, and he pulled his wand from the folds of his jacket, pointed it at the implements that House had set down on the table in a row and with a muttered word that sounded like something in Latin, House watched as each item seemed to grow hot and let off steam until they gleamed as though they had recently been manufactured.

House emitted a low whistle and nodded slightly back at the dark professor.

"Impressive," he said, finally, "Why did you even need me again? Oh yeah, because I'm brilliant and you look like you've stepped from a period piece where people still use chamber pots and get a touch of the ol' tuberculosis."

"Wizards do not get muggle tuberculosis, and have been using indoor plumbing before the American colonies were fully established," Snape replied dourly, "And considering the state of your own...I hesitate to call it a _style_...you really aren't one to talk."

"Fine, fine, you big _meanie_," House said with mock hurt filling his voice, "How your little _girlfriend_ can find you interesting despite your winning personality is anyone's guess."

That struck a nerve.

"_Be silent or I will not be held responsible for what I do next_!"

House smirked and held up his hands in mock surrender and turned to the two medical cots behind him. A woman with a pinched looking face and her hair pulled back in a severe bun lay under a starched sheet, her body still as death. She looked to be in her early fifties, if not older. A pointed hat was hung on the bed knob at the head of the bed, and House had to choke back a quip about it being too early for Halloween. The man laid out next to her was quite dark skinned with full lips, a strong angular jaw and long, dark eyelashes that gave him the appearance of wearing eye makeup. He appeared to be far younger than the woman, but House knew better than to assume.

"This is Headmas-er-Headmistress Minerva McGonagall," Snape said with a serious intensity, placing a hand at the foot of each bed, "And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic. As you may well guess, they are two of the most powerful individuals in the Wizarding World. We've been desperately trying to keep the news of the epidemic under control for the past few months while trying to find a cure, and if it gets out that both of them have succumbed…"

"Everyone's going to panic, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?" House said flippantly, "I think that the first thing we're going to have to do is get some good light in here. I'm going to start with a physical examination of their bodies."

Snape snapped his wand around in a circular motion with another whispered incantation of some sort and a number of bright white globes of light materialized in the air over the beds. House tried not to stare and played off his surprise with a shrug.

"That'll work."

He pulled back the sheets on the woman first, noticing that she wore deep crimson robes with a golden lion sigil pinned to a sash wrapped tightly at her throat.

"I can't do much of a physical exam without removing her outergarments," House said irritably, "And while I obviously know I'm not going to get slapped if I do it myself, I'd be more comfortable if a woman could disrobe her and place her in something like a hospital gown."

Snape seemed to think on this for a moment before he nodded and called out, "Nib!"

The house elf appeared immediately with a jarring POP, bowing low with respect.

"Nib, if you would be so kind as to bring Miss Granger to me. Have her bring two hospital gowns from the infirmary as well."

Nib nodded and disappeared with another unnerving POP. House was still looking at the spot where the house elf had only stood moments before when he heard a dry cough and looked up at dark eyes of the professor before him with a wary look.

"Now then," Snape said, "You should be perfectly able to work on Kingsley while we are waiting for Nib to return."

"Oh, well, about that," House said, "I can't."

"And why not?"

"Because I know you could probably do it in three seconds with your magic stick there."

Snape snorted.

"It's not a _magic stick_. It has a proper name, you know."

"Yeah, well, you still know what I mean," House said conversationally, "C'mon, you know the faster you get him in his skivvies, the faster I get to examine him for bites and bumps and bleeds, oh my!"

Snape simply gave House a dark look before pulling out his wand and closing his eyes, looking for all the world as though he were about to start conducting an orchestra.

Small cuts appeared on Kingsley's robes, criss-crossing until they fell away, leaving the man in a pair of white boxers. House softly golf-clapped for a second and reached down and pulled the robes, uncut and unblemished, from the floor.

"When are you going to do the thing with the rabbit and the hat? Because I always liked that one!" he said, throwing the robes over the back of a nearby chair that had been placed next to the far table and swearing softly when they slipped off the back of it and landed on the ground with a soft thud.

"I expect that I can at least leave his..._undergarments_ intact?" Snape asked with a sour look, pointing his wand at the robes until they had draped over the chair properly.

"Show off," House scoffed, moving over to Kingsley and looking closely at the man's bare chest.

There was no tell-tale rise and fall of lung activity, and when House placed a mirror by the man's mouth, it did not fog in the least. He checked for a pulse in several places on the man's body with his fingers to no avail. He grabbed the stethoscope with a dubious look, but put it around his neck and began to try again. Frowning in concentration, he finally slid up the leg of the man's boxers and placed it against the man's femoral artery.

His eyes went wide.

"Come here," he said flatly, "Tell me what you think of this."

Snape strode towards him with a loud rustle of midnight black robes and took the stethoscope headphones that House had offered him.

"Hear that?" House said, "That, my friend, is a pulse."

"But...that's impossible!" Snape said in disbelief.

"I know. And that makes it interesting," House replied, "Me likey."

Snape turned abruptly to face the grinning doctor and seemed about to say something when another loud POP signalled the arrival of Nib and-

"Professor! I was told you wanted me...er...I mean...my help," Hermione said, walking briskly over to them with two hospital gowns and a small bag of what seemed to be other assorted supplies.

"Indeed," Snape replied, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he were trying not to smile.

"Aren't you going to tell her about my brilliant deduction?" House whined, "God, you two are no fun!"

Hermione turned, pointedly ignoring the whiny doctor, and waved back at the house elf with a smile.

"Thanks Nib!" she said simply.

The house elf bowed and disappeared without a word, though it almost seemed for a moment as though he had..._glared_ at Hermione? Odd.

"You were saying?" Hermione said softly, turning to look at Snape as though House had not said a thing.

"We may have found a pulse," Snape said slowly, and Hermione squeaked with pleasant surprise.

"This is huge!" she said, her eyes growing large, and in her excitement, she placed a hand gently on Snape's sleeve where the dark cloth met his hand for a moment which made him look down in surprise and she followed his gaze, turning scarlet and withdrawing quickly, "S-sorry, sir, I just got so excited, and.."

"There is no need to apologize, Hermione," he said, and House saw how his eyes softened when he said her name.

_Oh brother. _

"And what are _you_ rolling your eyes about?" Hermione said irritably, finally glancing over at House.

"Because watching you two is making ME sick," he replied gruffly, making a mock kissy-face, "'Oh hello professor I'm so smitten with you tee hee hee!' 'Oh look at me so tragic, we can never be together because I cannot possibly comprehend how to survive unless I can ensure that I'll be a miserable bastard!' Now could you guys go find a closet somewhere and resolve your sexual tension while I actually accomplish something? Because it's distracting me while I'm working, and not in the good way!"

"Why _you-_!" Hermione balled her fists angrily and she took one step before Snape held out an arm and she froze behind it, her eyes trained on his unamused expression.

"Patience, Miss Granger," he said exasperatedly, "I need you to get Minerva into the hospital gown so that she can be properly examined as well. I shall make sure that this...irritating bastard...is otherwise occupied while you work."

"Are you referring to yourself or are you referring to me?" House replied scathingly, "Because I can't tell which one of us is winning that prize."

Snape simply fixed him with a cold glare and pointed his wand at House, whose eyes went wide as his tongue flew to the roof of his mouth and stuck there uncomfortably. After making a couple of unintelligible words and frowning at the obvious amusement on Snape's face, House simply glared back, shrugged and then turned back to examine Kingsley once more. He seemed to have nearly no reaction at all as he worked along looking for any kind of telltale infection until he got to the man's feet and his eyes narrowed in concentration. He went to the table and picked up a pair of tweezers.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked worriedly, "Don't you dare think of taking out your frustration at Se-Professor Snape on Minister Shacklebolt!"

House merely turned back to Hermione and stared at her for a moment with an expression that implied she was being idiotic. She huffed loudly and turned back to her own work, levitating the woman gently in the air and using her wand to undo all of the buttons on the crimson robes before quickly casting some kind of spell that made the air around the bed go all hazy and difficult to see while she removed the robes and dressed the Headmistress in the hospital gown as best she could.

House smiled despite himself at how Hermione could still stay on task even if she kept muttering things like "Bloody obnoxious American doctors," and "Would it kill him to stop acting like a total arse for one goddamn minute?" under her breath. She definitely wasn't the submissive bookworm he'd assumed her to be at first, and even though she wasn't nearly as beautiful as Cameron was, it was obvious that she was used to having everything come easy to her to the point that she really didn't _have_ to put out the effort and yet...and yet, House suspected that Hermione had always gone above and beyond in everything she set out to do. His suspicions were confirmed as he noticed that Hermione had somehow changed the color of the hospital gown to the same scarlet color as the Headmistresses' robes.

He pulled something out from underneath the Minister's left toenail and held it up in the light, squinting.

_What is __**that**__?_

His tongue came unglued from the roof of his mouth at the same moment that he realized that Snape was across from him with his wand raised and a light glowing at the tip of it to further illuminate the object before them. He was looming slightly over the cot in a manner that made him look a bit like a vulture as he peered down his hook-like nose at the tiny thing held between the metal tongs of the tweezers with an almost identical squint.

"Good lord," came the voice from the side, and both men jerked to see Hermione peering up at the object from the foot of the bed.

For a moment, the three stood hunched silently over the Minister of Magic's feet as though examining a holy relic.

"What is it?" both men suddenly said simultaneously before locking eyes and glaring at each other.

Hermione's nose wrinkled slightly as she pulled the information from the recesses of her mind.

"I've never seen one in real life," she said slowly after a moment, "But I'm almost completely positive that this...is a Nargle."

Snape cursed loudly at this, and Hermione's face screwed up in a worried, pinched expression as they looked at each other with a silent anxiety that suddenly made House feel deeply uncomfortable.

"I just have one question," he said suspiciously, and he waited until both a pair of black _and_ brown eyes had turned towards him before he finally spoke again.

"What the hell is a _Nargle_?"


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: All is Not What is Seen**

"That," Hermione said, sliding her finger down the page of a particularly thick tome until she reached the correct passage, "Is definitely a Nargle."

"Is it..._dead_?" House asked, scrunching his eyebrows and looking at it apprehensively.

"No idea, "Hermione replied, shrugging.

"I think that what the good doctor means," Snape said, bending slightly over from behind Hermione's right shoulder to look at the passage she had indicated, "Is that it may be a good idea to..._contain_ the creature."

"Oh! Yes! Absolutely!" Hermione blustered, jumping to the side with a flustered look, summoning a jar from one of the cabinets with her wand and indicating for House to drop the small, fuzzy thing inside, "I'll put air holes in the top just in case. Wouldn't want to be cruel."

"Oh great, another bleeding heart. Though apparently, this sentiment does not apply to human beings," House replied pointedly, "Not that I want you bleeding all over me, figuratively _or_ literally."

"One might call into question your status as a human being, then," Snape replied dryly as Hermione stared daggers at House and set the jar on the work table to her left with a small _thunk_.

"_You_ I'm not talking to unless I have to, _Doctor House_," Hermione huffed irritably, "If you have enough time to act like a menace, you might consider instead spending it looking for your sense of tact as it seems to have gone missing."

"That's what _she_ said!" House quipped sarcastically, "No really, that's pretty much what my team says every day and at least one of them is a woman, well she has cute breasts at least. But it's what makes me great. So, no, I will not be reigning myself in just because you get uncomfortable when people start talking about sex, drugs and rock'n'roll."

"You _do_ know that she's a witch in training to get her Mastery in Potions so that she can be promoted within the Office of Magical Law Enforcement, correct?" Snape said humorlessly, "She's not some kind of muggle groupie."

"Potions groupie, band groupie! Same difference!" House snapped, before he seemed to catch himself and lowered his voice to a wry muttering growl, "Sorry, I get annoyed easily when I don't have my white board. You wouldn't happen to have one, do you?"

"A...what?" Hermione asked, despite the sour look on her face when she realized that she had indeed gone back on her word not to speak to the infuriating man.

"A white-oh _never mind_!" House said exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I saw a chalk board earlier. In the room, you know, where everyone was eating. I wouldn't suppose one of you could use magic for something _actually useful for once _and put one in here?"

Snape crossed his arms and shot House a warning look from behind Hermione, who was still looking mostly confused, her nose wrinkling slightly in what seemed to House an unfairly endearing fashion.

House grumbled and huffed for a moment rolling his eyes theatrically before he finally turned back to Hermione and stuck out his lip in a mock pout.

"Pretty, pretty please may I have my blackboard? I promise to write on it so I can do my diagnosis and everything!" he whined.

"Fine," Hermione said shortly, narrowing her eyes as she raised her wand, "But no more trying to get a rise out of me, ok? What has been given can just as easily be taken away again."

Snape made a noise that sounded a little like clearing his throat and a lot like a snort of laughter.

"Oh stop laughing at me, _Lurch_!" House snapped, his face falling when he was faced with two blank stares, "Oh god, none of you have ever seen _The Addams Family._ You probably don't even know what television _is_!"

"I do _too_ know about the telly," Hermione said primly, "I just don't make a point of watching American television."

"You really should," House replied with a wicked grin, "It's _amazing_. Especially the bikini mud wrestling."

"Not interested," Hermione said, turning up her nose and waving her wand silently.

House watched her with interest as the air shimmered and her wand produced a glittering golden light.

_Interesting. Sometimes there are magic words. Sometimes there aren't. And yet..._

A small blackboard on a wooden tripod appeared in the corner of the room, making a small tapping noise as they touched down softly on the stone floor and House pulled one of the floating globes of light with one hand so that it shone dully on the black surface. A long piece of chalk sat on the inner frame of the board and House picked it up, turning to the other two.

"So," he said, "Isn't anyone the least bit afraid that I'm going to scratch my fingernails down this baby?"

Snape graced him with a bemused smirk.

"Only if you would like to make your own eardrums bleed," he said darkly, "Both of us know exactly how to block out..._undesirable noises_…"

"You two are _no fun_," House said abruptly, and turned to the blackboard to write.

"Now that Minerva's clothing has been sorted out, I'm going to head to the Owlery and send an owl to Luna. I," Hermione said, turning to look up at Snape with a searching look, "Do you need me...for anything else?"

His dark eyes seemed to linger on hers a moment longer than was comfortable before uttering a soft, "No."

"Well then, I'm off," she turned on her heel and nodded curtly in House's direction.

"Oh, come _on_!" House said sharply to the somber professor, gesturing towards Hermione's retreating emerald robes emphatically and scoffing as the other man turned toward the shadowy wall as though pointedly ignoring him.

"_Wait_," Snape said through gritted teeth, and Hermione paused in the doorway.

It was as though time stood still for a moment as everyone stayed in their respective places, Hermione with her head turned slightly as though listening for more, Snape in profile with his eyes in shadow and House looking at both of them as though they were the largest morons he had ever seen.

Finally, when it seemed that the moment would stretch on forever, House dropped the thick leather bound book he'd been holding and it made such a heavy thud as it hit the floor that Hermione jumped almost a foot in the air in surprise.

"I...shall accompany you," Snape said quietly, shooting a blood curdling look at House before turning back to Hermione and adding, "If that is agreeable to you."

Hermione nodded vigorously in reply.

"Very well," Snape replied evenly, switching to a deadpan voice as he addressed House, "Do not leave this room. I will set a ward at the door to dissuade you from..._wandering… _The castle is no place for a wandless muggle. You could become..._damaged_."

"Hurry back soon!" House said sardonically, "Or not! Just take the kissy faces elsewhere. It's distracting."

Hermione huffed and clenched her fists before she strode out of sight with Snape following her like a tall, silent and intimidating shadow.

"Now then," House said, turning back to the two still forms behind him and rubbing the chalk between both of his palms, "Where were we?"


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Possibilities, Schmossibilities**

It had only been a half an hour and already House had crossed out four different diseases. His fingers and the cuffs of his sleeves were covered in chalk dust, but he paid it no mind.

It didn't fit and it was pissing him off.

Using the primitive medical equipment he had on hand had been a challenge, but House lived for a good challenge, even though he also enjoyed complaining about it. The books that Snape had provided were largely on the subject of magical ailments and referenced terms and diseases he was unfamiliar with, but this was not an issue as far as House was concerned. He voraciously devoured the knowledge within each time as best he could in the limited time he had available to him, and added a couple of Wizarding diseases and disorders on the board for good measure. There was also an older set of medical encyclopedias stacked near the bookcase that looked as though it had been picked up second hand and was missing the entire L volume.

_But that's just fine with me. It's obviously not lymphoma and it's never Lupus, so really, what else is there?_

It was hard being such a genius without an audience, though, and making witty observations were boring if he was the only one listening. That left nothing but to get down to the actual hard work that needed to be done.

House clipped a hair sample from each patient, labeling them with small torn bits of parchment. The quill pen took awhile to get used to, and his writing was a bit smudgy, but he managed.

Collecting saliva was fairly easy, but it was harder to collect blood with only one dubious looking glass syringe. He used the Bunsen burner under the antique chemistry set on the table to disinfect the needle as best he could, but it felt quite barbaric and the actual blood draw was a bit messier than he had expected. In the end, he managed to pull it off, gathering an acceptable amount of blood into each phial, though he wasn't at all sure how useful any of it would be in the end, as it was obvious that there was no conveniently located laboratory to run conventional blood tests.

Looking at the blood samples with his naked eye proved to be a huge revelation, though. It sloshed around in the phial like normal, uncoagulated blood, but seeing as the patients in question had no pulse other than the faint beat in the femoral artery, this was curious indeed. He at least expected clots or thick, semi-coagulated blood, but none of these things were present at all.

Finally, he secured a skin sample using a scalpel to make a tiny incision on the shoulders of his two patients. The wounds did not bleed like he would have expected, and within minutes, a dark brown scab had formed on each site. When he checked the pinprick where he'd drawn blood from their inner arms, his eyes widened when he realized that not even a scab remained to show that anything had pierced their skin.

Within ten minutes, the wounds on their shoulders were fully healed as well. House stared with fascination for a moment before his eyes widened with realization and he growled with irritation.

"I'm an _idiot_!" he exclaimed, eminently glad that no one could hear him.

House grabbed the chalk with shaking fingers and went to work on the chalkboard, wiping the top clean with his sleeve as he ran out of room.

He was still feverishly working at the board when Snape reappeared at the door and cleared his throat to let House know of his arrival. He frowned when the doctor continued to scratch away at the board as though deaf to any noise outside of his thoughts.

Intrigued, Snape walked silently up behind House and peered over his shoulder. His dark eyes widened with a keen interest at what he saw.

House had created a table with three columns. The first was labeled _Environmental_, the second was _Pathogen_ and the third was _Autoimmune_. A number of possible diseases and conditions were listed in each column. Under that, he had drawn a dividing line and written KNOWN FACTORS in big block letters, which was where he was currently writing at a breakneck pace.

"_Accelerated healing- relevant_?" Snape read from the top of the list.

House turned for a moment with an irritated expression.

"Do you _mind_? I'm in the middle of some important doctoring at the moment!"

"Not at all," Snape replied with a bemused expression on his face as he gestured theatrically with his hand, "Do, please continue."

The darkly clad professor turned and walked back to the work table and looked at the various samples laid out on the work table, glancing back at House with an expression of mild surprise. He picked up one of the phials of blood and swished the crimson liquid around slowly in a careful circular motion.

"Don't you even think of touching those!" House snapped without turning away from the board, as though he had eyes on the back of his head, "Get your _own_ damn samples!"

"I have no need of resorting to such _barbaric_ muggle methods," Snape replied dismissively, "I was merely looking at what odd things you've been up to while I was otherwise engaged."

"Mmhmm," House grunted in reply.

"What, no cruel innuendo about a virgin male's lack of stamina? No biting observation about my returning with a lack of doe-eyed company?" Snape replied pointedly. The tone of his voice suggested that he was actually quite genuinely surprised.

"Working!" House replied churlishly, as though that explained everything.

Because really, it did. House had already realized that Snape was alone, that his collar seemed slightly wrinkled at the neck as though someone had been grabbing hold of it at some point in the recent past. And as cliche as it was, there was indeed a tiny mark of what looked like strawberry chapstick smudged against the tip of his high white collar.

But none of that mattered just quite yet.

Nearly half an hour later, he stepped back from the board with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"I dismissed it at first because I thought it was just a weird wizard thing," he said smugly, "But when you look at things properly, it suddenly makes all the sense in the world!"

"What are you on about now?" Snape replied, glancing over the book he was perusing.

"When is healing not just healing?" House asked with a smirk.

"I'm sure that whatever I say next is going to be soundly shot down, so why don't we skip the verbal sparring and get on with it?" came the biting reply.

"Awwww, you are no fair!" House pouted loudly.

Snape shot him a silent, unamused glare.

"Fine, fine!" House replied, turning and holding up his chalk, underlying a word on the board for emphasis.

"It's a _symptom_," House said matter-of-factly, pressing his finger against the board, "It's bizarre as hell, but this abnormally fast healing factor is actually a freaking _symptom_."

"And what does that mean?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement as he stood and approached the board to get a closer look.

"I have no idea!" House replied grumpily, "But you've gotta admit, it's interesting as hell!"

"Do you mean to tell me that you are nowhere nearer to an answer than you were this morning?" Snape rumbled menacingly, leaning forward so that he was practically looming over the somewhat shorter man.

"Have you even been _listening_ to me?!" House shouted back, "And did you actually read _anything_ about how I do things or was that a lie too? I am the Head of _Diagnostics_, not the Head of Pulling Shit Out of my Ass So That You Can Feel All Warm and Fuzzy! I use the evidence I gather to get to the bottom of obscure ailments and treat them if I can! Well _sometimes_, in fact _most_ of the time, the answers aren't easy to come by! Sometimes two separate conditions have the same symptoms! Sometimes symptoms disappear completely before I can trace them to their root cause and I have to start over again. And don't even get me started on how everyone is always too busy _lying_ about important shit for _stupid_ reasons that _don't interest me_! You want to know what I've been doing? I'm doing my goddamn _job_, no thanks to you and your fellow foolish wand-waving sycophants! And you _dare_ to tell me that I've done _**nothing**_!? Don't make me laugh!"

Snape's face began to turn a violent shade of purple at this, but he somehow maintained his composure and simply narrowed his eyes further, looking all for the world as though steam were about to erupt from his ears for having been yelled at.

"Oh, didn't like that, I see!" House continued loudly, "Come on, then! What are you gonna do about it, huh?! Huh?!"

"Why, you-!"

But that was the farthest Snape got before the door flew open with a crash. Snape whirled around furiously at the interruption and House too peered around his slight frame.

"Professor!" Hermione cried, her breathing heavy with the exertion of having obviously run up many flights of stairs, "Co-come quickly!"

"Is Lovegood here _already_?" Snape replied sharply, his voice softening as Hermione jerked backwards at his angry tone, "I...I mean, please, _do_ show her up here."

"No...th-tha-that's not it!" Hermione gasped, putting a hand on the doorframe as she caught her breath, "It's Ginny. She collapsed at Quidditch practice. Ron and Harry just brought her in."

"Then get her into the Great Hall," Snape replied with a dismissive wave, "Surely, Potter and Weasley can manage something _that_ simple!"

"That's the thing," Hermione replied, her voice finally returning to normal, "She's still breathing and her heart is still beating. She's just unconscious. They think they've caught the condition in its early stages. Please! Both of you! Come quickly before it progresses! It might yield some valuable information that we couldn't get from the others!"

Snape turned to address House, but the doctor had already dropped the chalk onto the sill of the chalkboard with a loud clatter and was practically on top of Hermione in a moment.

"_Show me_," he said intensely, his brow furrowed in concentration, and Hermione stepped backwards blinking in bewilderment at the sight of the serious, focused doctor in front of her as though seeing him for the first time.

"O...Of course!" she said, recovering, and she turned and led House out of the room.

"Never a dull moment, is there?" Snape sighed with exasperation as he addressed the Headmistress and the Minister with a curt nod, "There's a reason I resigned as Headmaster, a very, _very_ good reason. I'm not sure if either of you can still hear me, but let me just say that I shall be glad to be rid of this place the moment you both are well again, so don't even _think_ of kicking off and leaving me to sort out this heap of dragon dung!"

And with that, he turned and followed the others, raising a protective ward on the door with a flick of his wrist as he increased his silent pace down the stairway toward the entrance to the castle.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Will we be graced with the presence of the ever-eccentric Luna Lovegood? Will Ginny's condition shed some light on the mysterious illness? Will House have an epiphany? I wonder how his team and Wilson are faring without their favorite grumpy doctor?<p>

STAY TUNED!

And as always, your thoughts and comments are always welcome!


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Diverted Interests**

"She's in here!"

House followed Hermione around the corner from the entrance hall to a small room that looked as though it had served as a lost and found or some sort of coat check room. Old, dusty robes hung everywhere, and there were more than a few dented pointy hats and assorted bric a brac strewn about the already claustrophobic room.

Hermione set to work clearing out the dust and puttering around grumbling about cleanliness, which House found completely uninteresting, so without another word he approached his patient with an eager gleam in his eyes.

The red headed woman he'd seen the night before (who had given Snape quite a run for his money as he remembered) was lying on a pile of robes that had been placed on top of a long countertop, presumably to make it more comfortable, her chest rising and falling regularly. Her hair was splayed out wildly around her head and she appeared to have a fairly large, freshly acquired bruise on her cheek stretching up to her right temple. She was wearing some sort of sporting uniform, but he was unfamiliar with the team.

"What happened here?" House said, pointing at the mark.

The man from earlier, who was obviously her brother (or at least a close relative) from the uncommon hair color and freckles they shared, crossed his arms and looked down at his feet while another man with dark hair and glasses (Potter, _that_ was his name!) looked up in panic, his hand grasping hers tightly.

"She was just getting off the ground when she just...collapsed off of her broom!" he said with a shaky voice.

"Excuse me?" House replied, looking up from examining the injury with a puzzled grimace.

"She plays for the Hollyhead Harpies, the best women's Quidditch team in Britain," the red haired man interrupted.

"And _you_ are?"

"Ah, we haven't been formally introduced! Ron Weasley," the man stuck out his hand to shake and then dropped it back to his side when House glared at it as though it were rabid and threatening to bite, "Ginny's my sister, and she's married my best mate Harry (he pointed to the man holding her hand) just last June, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry replied softly, his eyes going misty as he looked down at her, "Please, Doctor, won't you examine her? If even Snape-"

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry!" Hermione said in a warning tone as she appeared from behind a hanging red robe.

Ron rolled his eyes as though he'd heard this very phrase more often than he cared to admit and House found himself wanting to do the same.

"_Fine_!" Harry snapped loudly, which sent Hermione scurrying back behind some dust-choked curtains with a squeak, "If _Professor_ Snape thinks that the good doctor here is good enough to help McGonagall and Kingsley, then he's good enough to treat my Ginny! Please! I can't lose her! I can't! I just can't!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, then," House drawled, "Because you know what they say about those who assume."

With that, he began taking manual pulse readings from different places on her body, his face set in a determined scowl.

"I'd say you've already made a big enough ass of yourself for the day," a snide voice commented from behind him.

"Criminey, Snape! You almost gave me a heart attack, sneaking in from the shadows like that!" Ron exclaimed irritably.

"What a pity," Snape replied dourly, "Perhaps a little cardiac arrest would have helped you finally figure out where your heart is located."

"As opposed to you, who was born without one at all?" Ron shot back.

"Stop bickering!" Harry shouted, causing the fighting wizards to turn and look at him with surprise, "Ron, if you want to go have a wizard's duel with Snape, fine, but go do it elsewhere because the doctor here needs to concentrate on Ginny. Your _sister_. My _wife_. On second thought, go send a Patronus to your mum and dad. They deserve to know."

Ron nodded grimly and stomped out of the room with purpose, shooting a final evil look at Snape as he passed by the dark professor on his way out. Snape pulled his lips back into a cruel, ghoulish grin in response, which made Ron's face go almost as red as his hair and he grumbled something rude under his breath as the door closed behind him.

Meanwhile, House had pulled out a scalpel and had made a small incision on Ginny's upper arm in the same place he had with his two other patients. The unconscious woman made a horrible groaning noise and her arms flailed as the steel cut into her flesh.

"What are you doing?!" Harry demanded, pulling Ginny into his arms, "You're hurting her! I trusted you!"

"That was your first mistake. It was necessary, so I did it," House replied, "Now give me back my patient!"

"I warn you, I grew up in the muggle world," Harry replied fiercely, "And I know for a fact that muggle doctors don't go around stabbing their patients."

"Are you sure?" House replied, "Please, do tell me, what medical school did you attend?"

"What? But...that's-!"

"What, irrelevant?" House replied, "I think not! Just because you've never seen it done doesn't mean I didn't have a good reason for my actions."

"Then what sort of justification could you possibly have for doing it?" Harry replied exasperatedly, "And being a bastard who apparently likes stabbing people doesn't count."

House pulled out a small penlight from his other pocket and leaned in to inspect the cut. Red blood still oozed lazily from the incision and House frowned.

"Well?!" Harry said fiercely, holding Ginny tightly to his chest as though he was expecting House to pull out a venomous snake next.

"First of all," House replied, "You're going to thank me in a moment. She doesn't have it."

"What?!" The word seemed to fill the room in stereo as Harry, Snape and even Hermione all exclaimed in unison.

"Now the only thing I have to do is figure out what is wrong with her, and you can all go on your merry ways!" House continued grouchily, looking pointedly at Snape's sneer, "Well, some will be merrier than others."

He checked her lymph nodes first, noticing that they were slightly swollen.

"What is it?" Harry said worriedly.

"Working!" House shouted as he felt her forehead and opened her mouth to look at her tonsils with his penlight. Harry simply looked slightly green as House continued to work his way down her body.

When he finally got to her abdomen, he palpated her liver and spleen.

"Everything seems normal sized," he said thoughtfully, his hands traveling further down, "Except...Ah...well, _there's_ your problem!"

"What? What is it?" Harry looked at House wildly, panic rising in his voice.

"Well, considering the level of technology here, I'm going to need a rabbit to confirm," House said matter-of-fairly.

Harry's face went white with anger.

"Are you taking the piss, mate?!" Harry yelled, grabbing House roughly by the shoulders, "This. Is. My. Wife!"

"Well to make it work, it's true that we will need your wife's urine," House replied acidly, "Now let go of me before you hurt yourself."

Harry shoved him backwards and House stumbled before catching his balance. When he looked up again, Harry was pointing his wand straight at House's chest.

"It may be news to you, but I defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort!" Harry said angrily.

"Am I to understand that by 'defeated' you mean 'killed'?" House replied cooly.

"Ding ding ding! We've got a winner!" Harry shouted, his voice breaking slightly.

"Harry! _No_!" Hermione cried, pushing House back and placing herself in front of him.

"I mean, sure, if you kill me, your wife could just _magically_ get better, or maybe she gets worse and you just killed your only way of finding out what's wrong with her," House replied sarcastically.

"_Harry, you wouldn't_!" Hermione looked horrified.

The wand dropped to Harry's side.

"I wasn't going to kill him," Harry muttered, "Just wanted to scare him a bit so he stops treating this like a joke."

"But haven't you heard? Life is a joke and death is just the punchli-OOF!"

Before he realized what was happening, Hermione had spun around and punched House hard right in the solar plexus.

"You absolute _bastard_! That's for hurting my friends!" she spat.

He doubled over, unable to breathe correctly, and as he recovered slowly from the screaming pain in his guts, he glanced up to see both Harry and Snape looking at Hermione with something like fear...and awe.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked like she was about to set him on fire. Definitely scarier than Cuddy.

_In fact, I'd say this woman is absolutely terrifying. _

"If I may, I think I will be able to shed some light on why Dr. House here might need a rabbit for an actual medical reason," Snape said suddenly, as House gasped for air and struggled to stand up straight, "You see, muggles used to use rabbits as a way to confirm pregnancy. Female rabbits would be freshly killed and their ovaries covered in the patient's urine to confirm."

"You mean he _wasn't_ joking?" Hermione suddenly looked horrified.

"Technically, but the practice has been obsolete for many years in muggle medicine, so you are partially correct, "Snape replied, "He _was_ intentionally acting like a bastard, as you so..._kindly_...pointed out."

"Hagrid might have a rabbit, I mean, I think-" Harry trailed off sounding sheepish.

"Thinking like a muggle again I see, eh Mr. Potter?" Snape replied sardonically, "Because last I checked, we were all wizards and there is a fairly simple spell one can use to achieve the same result, no rabbit sacrifice required."

House watched as Harry blushed red with embarrassment, but said nothing. Clearly this Snape fellow had something on him, or he'd have had a wand shoved in his face as well.

"Brilliant, Professor!" Hermione chirped, looking relieved.

"Um, well, the thing is, I don't know it, the spell, I mean," Harry said uncomfortably, "Can you...erm...please, sir, will you do the honor?"

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"You married a _Weasley_ and you don't know how to check to see if she lives up to her family's particular..._claim to fame_?!" he said with surprise.

"Well, it's not like we're trying to..._you know_.." Harry's face was going red with embarrassment.

"I suppose I should have expected as much," Snape replied, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "Well, then, I suppose there's no time like the present. Hermione!"

"Y-yes sir?"

"Please show Mr. Potter here how to cast a Conceptus Charm."

Hermione's face was scarlet with embarrassment as she stepped around the still-gasping Dr. House, (who had wisely decided that not even the perfect snarky retort was worth being sucker punched like that again), until she stood in front of Ginny's unconscious form and made a complicated curlicue motion with her wand while simultaneously saying "Conceptus Revelicus!"

A slight green glow emanated from her wand and after a moment, the top turned a bright blue.

"Um," gulped Hermione, "Congrats, Harry. You're going to be a dad."

"I believe that it would be a good idea to wake Mrs. Potter first before congratulations are in order," Snape said calmly, handing a small phial to a still-dumbstruck Harry.

Nodding, the bespectacled man tipped back his wife's head and helped her swallow the potion slowly. Almost instantly, her eyes opened slightly and she reached out to her husband.

"Hello, you," she said softly, as though they were the only two people in the world, then her eyes went wide, "Where am I? What happened?"

"Try not to excite yourself," Harry said, grasping her hand tightly, "You've had a bit of a fall."

Ginny reached up to her cheek and pressed the bruise tenderly, wincing slightly, her expression puzzled.

"Nonsense! This is ridiculous! I bump my head and you've..wait, where am I anyway- _Snape_! I should have KNOWN it was you!"

She pulled herself up in Harry's arms with a murderous look before sinking backwards again.

"Ugh, my head….I'm really dizzy…"

"That," House croaked from the floor, "Is because your blood sugar is probably very low."

"What do we do about that?" Harry said shakily, his eyes darting to his wife's abdomen for a moment before looking back to House, who had sunk down to his knees to combat the weakness in his legs after having had the wind fully knocked from his body.

"Get her a sandwich, preferably something balancing carbs with fat and protein. LIke...a BLT," House replied.

"A what?" Hermione asked.

"A BLT. It's a kind of sandwich we eat back in the good old US of A," House replied with a glare as he held his stomach in an extra pathetic manner, "You put Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato on toasted bread, maybe with a bit of mayo if you're being adventurous. Make sure she eats regular meals and snacks, takes her prenatal vitamins and has regular checkups with her..witch doctor..as well, and she should be just fine."

"Oh…" Hermione flinched at the pathetic display that House was making of himself on the floor. House suppressed a grin of glee at her discomfort, because what the hell, why not let her suffer a little?

"So...you're saying that you're prescribing me a _sandwich_?" Ginny asked, her face screwed into an expression of utter disbelief.

"You'll be feeling like your old self in no time," House said, his normal voice returning, "But you probably shouldn't be riding around on broomsticks in your condition."

"Nib!" Snape said loudly, causing everyone to jump, "I require a sandwich with Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato per the doctor's orders. Bring it to my location once it has been made."

"Ginny…Ron and I brought you here," Harry said, after an awkward silence, "Snape had nothing to do with it. We thought you were sick like the others when you passed out like that...I just...I thought I should tell you that...oh...it's hard to say, but-"

"Just tell me already!" Ginny said, her mouth turning up in a half-smile at Harry's flustered demeanor.

"Ginny, we're...I'm...you're...erm...going to be a mum," he finally managed, tuning bright red with embarrassment.

"WHAT!?" Ginny screeched in reply so loudly that no one heard Nib appear next to Snape with a plate, hand said plate to the professor, bow silently and then disappear once more.

"I believe you will need _this_ before you go on any homicidal rampages," Snape said cooly, handing the plate containing the sandwich, a side of fruit and some sauteed potatoes to the flabbergasted redhead.

Ginny took the plate without her eyes leaving her husband's quite-white-with-shock face and began to eat slowly and methodically.

"Well, if that's all," House said gruffly, "I think I'm going to go back to my room to rest for a bit. It seems that I've got some kind of pain, oh right, Little Miss Frizzy-Headed Sunshine over there decided to go all Kung-Fu Panda on me."

"I'll...escort you," Severus said, his eyes narrowing, "On the off-chance that you might...get..._lost_..."

"And I'll...um…" Hermione looked awkwardly at House as he put on his best kicked puppy expression, "I need to go up to the infirmary and check on..things.."

She rushed by them both before either of them could say anything.

"I guess I'm stuck with you, then," House groused as they walked towards the dungeons.

"Likewise," Severus replied sourly.

"Oh, hello there," a new voice said dreamily from behind them.

House turned and saw a tall, thin woman with very closely cropped blonde hair that was so light it almost seemed white. Her eyes seemed to glow with an icy blue light and they somehow seemed larger than normal eyes ought to be. She was wearing a silver dress that shimmered like starlight with a cloak that looked as though it had been woven from fallen branches and grasses. As House watched, a small bird poked its head out of the shoulder of the cloak and chirped once before burrowing back inside. She wore purple boots with thick soles that almost rivaled the black ones that Snape wore, only hers were wrapped with small silver bells that tinkled softly as she walked towards them. Her wand was tucked behind one of her ears and strange, radish-shaped objects dangled from her ears. As strange as her outfit was, it somehow also seemed to be inexplicably _right_, and the way that she moved reminded House of one of those Elven queens from some fantasy movie or other.

"Lovegood," Snape said, curtly nodding to her.

"My name is Luna," she said, her voice echoing strangely in the hallway, "You're that house doctor Hermione mentioned in her letter. Nargles don't infest houses, though, so I'm not sure how helpful I'll be."

"No," House replied, "My name is Dr. _House_, and if I'm not mistaken, you're the..._Nargle_ expert?"

"Oh yes," Luna replied spacily, staring at the wall to her left, "They can be quite troublesome, you know. Just like people."

"Hermione is up in the infirmary," Snape said, fixing the girl with a curious expression, "She will be happy to see you. The doctor here requires a little rest before continuing his work."

"Oh, Hermione…._I see_," Luna said, and her eyes locked upon Snape's as though they were having a silent conversation.

House looked up at both of them with an irritable harumph.

"I think I shall go see how _Her-mi-o-ne_ is doing," Luna said finally, pronouncing Hermione's name as though it were notes in a song.

"Very well," Snape replied gruffly.

"Oh, and Professor?" Luna said, turning back, her bells chiming merrily, "I very nearly forgot to tell you."

"Yes?"

"I originally came in looking for some help. Ron Weasley is outside, you see," she said seriously.

"And?"

"And he's not responding to anything I say," Luna replied, "I think the Nargles got him."

House and Snape looked at one another for a split second before rushing towards the entrance doors to the castle.

"I'll go get Hermione," Luna called from behind them, "I'm sure she'll know what potions we'll need."

"Having to attend to two Weasleys in one day should be illegal," Snape muttered under his breath, "It's just my rotten luck that I must endure such injustice. And I shall not even begin to describe the place in hell that I am certain has been reserved just for you."

"_I love you too_," House replied sarcastically.

Snape just snorted derisively in response as he opened the door.

Sure enough, Ron lay sprawled on his side at the foot of the stone steps leading into the castle, his eyes shut tight as though sleeping in the frost covered gravel. His wand was still grasped tightly in his hand, but he wasn't breathing and the only pulse that House could find was in the femoral artery.

"Don't tell me, this Weasley is also secretly female and up the duff?" Snape asked sardonically.

"No," House replied, "But that _would_ be interesting. Do remind me once I've solved this whole eminent death thing to tell you about the female runway model who secretly had testicular cancer. The ending is a bit of a _drag_, though."

Snape coughed loudly in a manner that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"I guess you've got another one to add to your list," House said, standing up as Snape levitated the red-haired man with his wand, "I just hope you have enough beds available."

"It isn't the beds that I'm concerned about," Snape replied ominously, his hand going to his throat momentarily before he dropped his hand to his side again, "It's the number of patients whose time is running out. Hogwarts is supposed to be a school, not a graveyard. We've lost too many in the past, and I do not wish to repeat the tragedy."

"You know, for a dark, antisocial bastard, you sure do care a lot about people," House observed as they walked back up the stairs.

"You don't have to _like_ people to _care_ about them," Snape replied cryptically, "You, of all people, should understand that."

"Touche," House replied, as he shut the heavy doors behind them, "Touche, indeed."


	12. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, all! I've been horribly sick with the flu/cold of death for the last couple of days and writing is hard when your brain is full of mucous, or as Luna would say, really, really big Wrackspurts. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. It's got a little bit of everything. Even Nargles! Indirectly. And some other stuff. Like awkward conversations! Yay! Anyway, I'm still kind of sick so I hope that I'm making sense right now, but if I'm not, just blame it on the damn Wrackspurts of Doom. Until next time, dear readers!_

**Chapter 11: Goddamn Effing Nargles**

"No! My baby! My _baby_!" The wails of the rotund red-headed woman dressed head to toe in garish knitted robes could be heard echoing in the halls all the way down in the dungeons.

"Good lord!" House shouted, his hands covering his ears, "Don't tell me that trolls are real as well!"

Snape waved his wand, drawing an odd pattern through the air and the sound faded away. For what he was certain would not be the last time, House found himself wishing that he could do magic. Silencing annoying noises would _really_ come in handy at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

"Trolls do exist, but _that..._is no troll," he replied sourly, pointing in the direction the noise had come from, "It is, in fact, worse. _More Weasleys_. Just what I needed. Of course, they just had to be the only pure-blooded family that doesn't seem to have the same issues with fertility as all of the others."

"How many of them _are_ there? Weasleys, I mean," House found himself asking. This very well might be important seeing as how Snape had mentioned the size of the Weasley family quite a lot.

"Too many, if you ask me," Snape said with a sneer as he leaned back in the black leather chair in House's guest room, swirling a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand.

"You know, I assumed that you were all smart enough to use proper outbreak protocol," House said, changing the topic abruptly, "But it occurs to me that perhaps with so little known about how this disease is transmitted, you might consider not allowing people to come and go so freely."

Snape sighed deeply into his glass before turning to look at House with exasperation.

"That's the problem," he said, "We've had a number of people working with our patients ever since the first few cases began to pop up and none of them have caught the disease. Both Hermione and myself have been in close quarters with patients for extended periods of time with no ill effect. And many of the victims are found in such a wide and random area that it's almost impossible to track vectors. The Ministry refuses to call an official Quarantine because we still do not have nearly enough information to prove that such a huge disruption in normal Wizarding business and governing would even be effective against this epidemic. Plus, it doesn't help that the Wizarding World has a very..._irritating_...tendency to stick their heads in the sand until things get incredibly dire."

House raised an eyebrow, "I am guessing that you are referring to that Dark Lord Voldemort person that Scruffy Scar Boy mentioned earlier?"

Snape chuckled darkly.

"Mr. Potter always has been quick to take all of the credit for machinations that had larger players than he was privy to," he mused, "But I do suppose he's right in the end. He did the actual defeating part. Though, to be fair, he still does not bear the weight of taking a life upon his soul."

"You sound like a cheap Victorian novel," House snarked, "Not that I've ever read such tripe."

"Oh, but the soul is very real," Snape replied morosely, "Though I wouldn't expect you to understand as I doubt you still even have _yours_."

"Takes one to know one!" House shot back.

"Ehhh," Snape grunted as he took another sip from his glass, "I find myself unwilling to expend the energy to dignify that with a proper reply."

"Awww, no fair!" House said loudly, his lip pulled into an exaggerated pout, "It could be important, you know. To making a proper diagnosis and saving your little world, you know, something like that."

"_Fine_!" Snape grumbled, slamming down the glass with a long-suffering and sour look, "The Weasleys are one of twenty-eight so-called pure-blooded families whose main ability seems to be to make more of themselves. This is fairly uncommon as most other pure-blooded matches lead to...truncated offspring. They were also known by certain..._circles_...as "blood traitors" because they refused to take part in the idea that they were better than others who have our..._particular abilities_...based on their blood status. They are famous for having red hair, being insufferably irritating, joining unpopular secret societies and living in a quaint sort of squalor that they apparently find palatable."

"What _is_ it with you people and your obsession with blood?" House replied scathingly, "I mean, not the actual thing of course, because that would actually tell you something. Like, for example, the fact that inbreeding is a really terrible idea. There's a lot of people who could back me up on this except for the fact that they're dead. Like the Egyptian Pharaohs. Aren't too many of them around anymore, and not just because they had terrible interior decorating skills for their dead. Doesn't your country also have a long-standing monarchy or something? I thought the giant ears and noses and funny teeth and blood clotting disorders might tip you off, but maybe that sort of thing is simply in vogue around here, eh? After all, I see that you have problems with the concept of electricity. _Thank god_ you don't have the same feelings about plumbing. I don't particularly like the thought of having to go pee-pee in a field like a goddamn animal."

"And _I_ don't particularly like the thought of having to listening _you_ go on at length about how much you disrespect _my_ culture. So tell me, what_ is_ your point?" Snape replied exasperatedly.

House appeared to be ready to reply when his eyes suddenly went wide and he stood abruptly, rubbing his leg slightly.

"Do you think you could zap this thing for me really quick?" House said grumpily, "Because I'm an idiot."

"I fail to see how these two things can possibly be related," Snape replied, "Though I _am _inclined to agree that you are an idiot."

"We need to check the blood of your patients," House shot back.

"I saw the phials from before," Snape replied, "Don't you have something better to do than stab your patients?"

"No no no, not their blood!" House said dismissively, "Their _blood_! You said that the Weasely guy was pure-blooded, right? What about those other two and all those other people in the big hall place thingie?"

"Now that you mention it, it's quite possible…."

"Possible isn't enough!" House shouted, "If it's a hereditary disease, there's quite a good chance that there's nothing that I can do, and that would make me very, _very_ cranky!"

"Oh, and we wouldn't want _that_, now would we?" Snape drawled sarcastically.

"You mentioned you had some books on the subject. I'm going to go find that space-case and pursue the Nargle angle," House said loudly, starting for the door, "After all, you seem to be pretty well-versed on the whole blood thing. You're _one of them_, aren't you?"

Snape's eye twitched for a fraction of a second before he set his jaw into a bored expression.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," he said, finally.

"You're hiding something from me," House stated with a smirk, "_Interesting_. I _like_ interesting."

"You forget the part of your brilliant hypothesis where the disease only affects pure-blooded wizards. Surely if I were pure-blooded as well, I would have already succumbed to it," Snape replied with a snarky tone to his voice.

"I could be wrong," House replied, "It's been known to happen. Besides, even if you're not one of them, that doesn't mean you don't _want_ to be. Maybe you tell yourself that you're happy with who you are, but you know the truth. Maybe you just wish that you were born with the prestige along with the funny nose. Having one without the other simply doesn't seem fair, now does it?"

"I've had quite enough of your nonsense!" Snape replied irritably, "Nib!"

The house elf appeared immediately and stared up silently at the two men.

"Take Dr. House to wherever Luna Lovegood is located so that they may discuss….Nargles," Snape said, wrinkling his nose as he pointed his wand at House's leg and silently cast the pain numbing spell as he had before, "Do not, I repeat do _not_ allow them to go into restricted areas or see our...esteemed patients...without my presence. I have some information that I must...procure...but I shall join them shortly."

"My leg is finally pain free and you want to teleport me with Gollum here?" House whined.

"I'm sure that you'll get over it," Snape replied with a macabre grin as Nib grabbed House's hand and they disappeared with a pop.

* * *

><p>"Harry, you need to take care of Ginny!" Hermione scolded her best friend as he hung back behind his wife at Hogsmeade Station.<p>

She'd accompanied the Potters after their row had been interrupted by the discovery of Ron. Luckily, the poor man had already sent his patronus before falling victim to the disease so they didn't have to send a second notification to Molly and Arthur, though they'd had quite a shock when they arrived to find not only a joyful occasion but a somber one as well. Now that they'd gotten to the point where they could finally Apparate, Harry seemed reticent to leave, which irritated Hermione to no end.

"I know...but...Ron's my best friend," Harry said, his eyes filled with guilt, "I should stay...maybe there's something I can do."

"Ron's in very capable hands, Harry!" Hermione replied with a stern look, "You need to stop thinking about your job and start thinking about _your_ _family_ now!"

"You guys _do_ know that I am pregnant, not deaf!" Ginny said loudly, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes, "And Ron _is_ technically family to Harry. Plus, he's my brother and I love him, even though I still think he can be a right lout."

"If you get low blood sugar again, you could Splinch yourself!" Hermione replied fiercely, "Even if you ignore the fact that it could hurt _you_, just think of your baby! You _need_ Harry to be with you right now, at least until you're sure that you're stable."

Ginny grumbled under her breath at Hermione's meddling but she finally nodded reluctantly.

"Send us a patronus if you need us," Harry said plaintively.

"Yes, yes, I know," Hermione replied dismissively, waving him off, "Who was the one who aced all her exams?"

"You did abysmally in Divination," Harry replied with a wicked grin, "But then again, even Professor Trelawney could have seen that one coming."

"That is beside the point, Harry Potter!" Hermione exclaimed shrilly, "I didn't know that it was going to be required or I would have studied...oooooh! Now you've got me going off topic so you can continue to stall! Take Ginny home and dazzle _her_ with your witty repartee instead, why don't you?"

"_Heaven forbid_!" Ginny laughed, rolling her eyes as one side of her mouth twisted up in a wicked grin.

The red-headed woman took Harry's arm and with a loud CRACK, they disappeared together.

Hermione was halfway back to Hogwarts when she noticed someone was coming in the opposite direction.

"Professor!" she squeaked, clearing her throat so that her voice would come out normally again, "What brings you here? I thought you were with that _House_."

She said the irritating doctor's name like an expletive, which seemed to amuse Snape, as he chuckled darkly in reply.

"I'm sure that Miss Lovegood can keep the doctor..._occupied_...for awhile," he said finally, an amused tone to his voice, "I had hoped that I would catch up with you before you returned to the castle. I need to stop at Rosmerta's for a short while to check on the child we left with her the other night as well as to make a couple of calls on the runic phone."

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm.

"But sir," she asked, puzzled, "What exactly do you need _me_ for?"

"Must I require a reason to desire the pleasure of your company?" he replied smoothly, one eyebrow raised in askance.

"N-no!" she replied, falling into step beside him.

They walked in silence for a few long moments. The only sound that seemed to fill the air was that of their footsteps and their breaths in the crisp spring air.

"Hermione."

"Yes?"

"I...I wanted to know if you were serious about what you said earlier. When we were in the owlery."

"I'm so sorry! I didn't realize that owl had a gooey piece of salmon in its claw! I really would have warned you before it dripped on your collar if I had known! I cleaned it as best I could...but..."

Snape waved his hand as though banishing the thought.

"No, no, that's not what I was talking about. I meant...about that restaurant."

"You mean if I pass my Mastery coursework?"

"Hermione, the fact that you are still using the word 'if' to describe your impending Mastery in Potions seems to suggest that you do not feel the level of conviction in your knowledge base that I require from my students. Have I been inadequate in my mentorship?"

"N...no," Hermione replied ashamedly, looking down at her feet, "I just...I don't want to sound like I'm bragging."

"It's not bragging if you are actually good at it," Snape replied, "And as long as you're not giving your two bumbling cohorts all the answers so that they never learn on their own, you should never shy away from admitting your level of skill and knowledge, especially not to _me_."

"But...you're the one who always referred to me as insufferable. A Know-It-All. A pest."

"You're not just memorizing things out of a book anymore. Anyone can parrot back facts, and if you're part of a larger class, many of whom were shirking on their educations because they expected you to bail them out, such behavior can quite certainly be..._a hindrance_...to the overall learning environment. But this is a completely different situation. Gaining your Mastery requires the ability to put theory into practice and even make improvements upon established protocol. You need to be able to make connections that are not obvious. In short, you must become an expert."

Hermione frowned for a moment as she let his words sink in.

"I...think I understand," she said, after a pause.

"So, you say that you know of a place that serves seafood that even _I_ would enjoy? Doubtful."

"Yes," Hermione replied, grinning, "And it would be my pleasure to take you there once all is said and done."

"As colleagues?" he asked suddenly, and she could hear a slight waver in the back of his throat as he said the words, "Or….?"

Hermione gulped.

_Well, it's now or never. Don't be a coward, Hermione!_

"I'd say that once you're no longer my mentor, that I'd quite like it if you could become...er...something else…"

_UGH! IDIOT! I should just shove my boot in my mouth before I do any more damage!_

"Such as?"

They'd stopped in the middle of the path. He was giving her a sidelong glance and she could feel her face growing so red that she was surprised that steam hadn't begun leaking from her ears.

"Well….maybe...like a d-date?" she stammered.

"_Interesting_."

_Great, Hermione, nothing like sexually harassing your professor to really end the day with a bang. What the hell has gotten into you lately?_

Hermione wanted to sink into the earth and disappear.

"I'm sorry! I'm terrible at this sort of thing!" she blurted out, "I just...I know it's unprofessional for me to feel like this! I shouldn't and I'm sorry and I just know you're obviously going to laugh at me and say something mean about my stupid feelings or something like that, but...well...I suppose I wouldn't have been sorted into Gryffindor if I didn't make a royal mess of pretty much every relationship I've ever been in by rushing into it like a total dunderhead."

And with that, she squeezed her eyes shut as though she were waiting for a physical or emotional blow to her body. When none came, she slowly opened her eyes and found that he was staring at her with what seemed to be a….hurt expression?

"Do you really think that.._poorly_ of me?" he said softly.

"I...I don't know what to think, to be honest," she replied, trying to meet his gaze even though her heart felt like it was doing flips, "Sometimes you're so kind and it's like seeing a different side of you, one that I really want to know more about...but other times...you just shut down and it's back to the cold shoulder and the dismissive comments."

"It's...a habit…" he said sourly, "It's a lot easier to pretend that nothing gets to me if I preemptively push away any potentially problematic situations. But it's become harder as the years go on. I find myself getting angry, losing my temper instead of being better able to keep my cool. And now it's such a habit, especially around new people, that I have to consciously hold myself back from saying hurtful things. But...I don't want to be a bitter, lonely man for the rest of my days, especially now that the war has been over for more than a decade. I've never particularly liked letting people into my life, and the few times that I have done so have never gone well for me. I am also fairly antisocial, and, in fact, I know that I will make mistakes. I cannot be a perfect, nor will I live up to any of the saccharine fantasies I am sure are flitting about in your head. But...when all of this is over...I think that I would enjoy going to dinner with you as your..._date_. As unfamiliar a word it sounds like coming from my mouth, I would like that...very much. I-"

He turned suddenly, his eyes sharp.

"What is it?"

Hermione had already raised her wand.

Not. A. Sound.

He mouthed the words and she nodded slightly, both of them standing back to back in a fighting stance as they prepared for attack.

Light thumping grew louder and louder.

_Almost._

"Stupe-!"

"-WAIT!"

The jet of red light smashed into a nearby tree, sending a squirrel tumbling to the ground as though it were made of stone. A silver hare jumped out of the bushes and sat up on its haunches, its whiskers twitching anxiously.

"Hi guys! I thought you might want to know that Dr. House and I...are having….some trouble?" Luna's voice said, coming from the voice of the hare, "So...um...if you can get back to the...oh...yeah...where are we again? Oh yes! It's ok, doctor, don't be afraid, Nargles don't _eat_ humans, but they do have quite sharp teeth and are known to nip a little….anyway, come on back to the kitchens when you have the chance, ok? Byeee!"

The hare disappeared after one final twitch of its nose.

Hermione sighed with relief.

"Thank goodness, Professor!"

"It looks like we will have to put our Hogsmeade trip on hold...for now."

His breath was measured but his eyes were still wide and alert as his wand vanished inside of his jacket in one smooth motion. Hermione guessed that many years of not being able to trust anyone would probably do that to anyone and part of her felt pretty rotten for thinking the worst of him only minutes before.

"Yes, Sir," Hermione said, taking a couple steps before she realized that he hadn't moved.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"You can...if you wish...you may...call me..._Severus_."

"I don't really feel like I-"

"You don't have to if you don't want to...use it," he replied, his voice low and devoid of emotion, but she could tell he was regretting having said it.

_Stupid stupid stupid._

"No! I mean, that's not what I meant...S...Severus. Wow, that felt weird..to say it aloud I mean...it's not like your name is weird or anything like that, especially considering my own clunker of a...er...wait, no...that's not what I meant...what I meant to say was, it's not like I spend a lot of time saying it in my head or anythi-shite! Sorry!" Hermione cursed, turning a deep shade of scarlet with embarrassment yet again.

_Gee, Hermione, I wonder how many times that is? Are we in the double digits yet?_

They were both walking, his steps slow and measured so that she could easily keep pace beside him as they continued onward in silence.

"How about this? Until you pass your test, you can feel free to get used to calling me by my name as long as we are...outside of our normal..._educational arrangement_? Would that make you...more comfortable?" he said finally.

"I think...I think that would be most agreeable," Hermione replied, looking down at her feet out of fear she might trip over herself.

"Say it, then," he replied, his lips pursed together expectantly, "...Please...I would...like to hear you say it."

"Of course, Si-S-S-Severus," she finally managed.

He covered his mouth with one hand for a moment, almost as though to cover a smile.

"Well, that's a start, I guess," he replied.

"Ok, then, _Severus,_" Hermione said with a nervous laugh, "_See_? I _can_ do it just fine!"

"Well, now I know why they used to call you the _brightest witch of your age_," he replied sarcastically.

"Don't make me remind you what 'they' used to call _you_," she shot back, sticking out her tongue.

"Oh? Do tell," he replied, eyebrow raised, "And do be sure to be certain that it's one I haven't heard before."

"Nope! Too late! You've already allowed me to call you by your first name, so there's no take backs!"

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works," he said with a scowl.

"Oh trust me, I know these things, _Severus_. After all, which one of us is the _brightest witch_ here?"

"But I'm not a-"

"Exactly, _Severus_!"

"Hmph. Let's get back before the doctor discovers that we've left him with someone who likes people less than creatures of dubious origin."

"Don't let Luna know that's what you think, _Severus_," Hermione replied with a laugh, "She'll lecture you for _ages_."

"Good lord, I've created a monster!" he remarked, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Now, now, _Severus_, I think we both know that ship sailed long ago back when I partially transformed into a cat," Hermione said, her mouth turning upward in a wide grin, "I think I'm finally starting to get the hang of it, actually."

"There are only a tiny number of people alive today who are allowed the privilege of using my first name, you know," he grumbled as the castle came into view.

"You do know that trying to frighten me would work better if I actually believe you're upset, right, _Severus_?" Hermione replied, "You asked me to call you by your name when we're alone, so I'm making up for all those times I wanted to but felt like I couldn't because of...reasons. Call me insufferable if you like, but when I get new information, I actually like to _use_ it!"

"When all of this is over, you're going to make me eat my words, aren't you?" he said sourly, though Hermione could see a faint smile turn up one corner of his mouth.

"No, Severus," she replied as she opened the door and made a motion with her hand for him to go in ahead of her, "Merely dinner. With me. _When_ I pass my Mastery exams."

She turned back and caught the smile that had pulled up both corners of his mouth before he summarily began coughing overly loudly into his sleeve to cover it up.

"You _like_ it, _don't you_, Severus?" she said playfully to his back as he began walking quickly in the direction of the kitchens, "You like when I call you by your name, don't you?"

"I generally do not make requests unless I wish for them to be carried out, Hermione," he said over his shoulder, "Make of that what you will."

"I shall be sure to do so, Severus. Have fun dealing with House!" Hermione called back.

"I'd rather plan the Yule Ball with those goddamn bloody Nargles!" came the echoed reply as he disappeared down around a corner and was gone.


	13. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note: Sorry that my regular updates have been somewhat sporadic- I needed to take the time to finish my main story (which is now done and has an actual end and everything!). Anyway, I'm hoping to finish this one up in another two or three chapters. I hope you like this chapter. It made me laugh while I was writing it, and that's always a good sign, don't you agree?**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12: Once Bitten, Twice Shy. Also, Ow, Nargle Bites Hurt Like a Bitch<strong>

"Your horrible imaginary creature bit me!" House howled, "That was my favorite finger too!"

To say that House was in a terrible mood would have been a terrible understatement . The top of his right middle finger was throbbing with pain and he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the unnecessary tears that had risen to the corners of his eyes at the onset of the surprisingly unbearable pain.

"Nargles are not imaginary," Luna replied with a dreamy smile as she stroked the cooing fuzzball in her arms, "Everyone knows that imaginary things don't bite."

Well she had him there.

"This was my favorite bird to flip, too," he groused, shaking his hands violently as though it would lessen the pain.

Luna laughed melodically at that and he arched his eyebrow in askance.

"Your finger is _not_ a bird!" She exclaimed in delight, causing the Nargle to squeak in alarm, "Do all Americans nickname their body parts?"

"Most men have a habit of naming a very _specific_ body part," he replied suggestively, "But don't be fooled. Usually the more impressive it sounds, the less impressive it actually _is_ in reality."

"Hmm," Luna replied, nodding sagely, "I shall keep that in mind when I am visiting the States this summer on a hunt for the Red-spotted Warbleck."

"Er," House replied, utterly nonplussed by her unflappability, "Why can't I make you uncomfortable?"

"Why? Does that make you feel uncomfortable?" Luna grinned, but the expression had no malice or sarcasm that he could detect.

"I suppose it shouldn't surprise me," House muttered darkly, "After all, you're petting that rabid Tribble as though it's a cat."

"I've never heard of a Tribble. Is it native to the States? This is a _Nargle_, doctor, and it's simply been enlarged as you had requested," Luna said simply, her eyes watching his expression as it changed from frustrated to utter exasperation.

"I merely said that I wanted to get a better look at a live specimen!" he replied, raising his voice despite himself, "_Not_ that I wanted to be _attacked_ by a violent orange powder puff!"

"Then perhaps you should have used that irritating overly verbose tongue of yours to speak more precisely," a scathing voice said from the doorway.

"Hello Professor!" Luna said, waving cheerily, "Look! A Nargle!"

"I see," Snape replied, staring somewhat dubiously at the fluffy humming creature, "Are you quite sure that it is safe?"

"Well, it _did_ bite the doctor over there, but to be fair he was pulling on its hair and it merely nipped in self defense," Luna said thoughtfully, "Get this, Professor, he calls his finger a bird! Isn't that hilarious?"

Snape pursed his lips into an unimpressed scowl.

"Quite," he said humorlessly.

"Nipped me?" House shouted, pointing an accusatory finger on his unbitten hand at the fluffy creature in Luna's arms, "The damned _thing_ nearly took off my fingertip! And I need my fingertips! After all, that internet porn isn't going to look at itself!"

"I find myself liking your fuzzy friend quite a lot more than I did three seconds ago," Snape said darkly, directing a malevolent grin towards the cranky doctor.

"Oh yeah? Well _you_ can stick-"

"_Excuse me_!" Luna interjected, jumping between the two near-snarling men, enlarged Nargle still cradled in her arms, "But Nargles tend to get cross when people have loud arguments."

As though to illustrate Luna's point, the Nargle began to growl softly.

"I wonder _whose_ fault that is?" Snape asked rhetorically, looking down his nose at House.

"Don't look at me," House replied, crossing his arms with a petulant expression, "I'm not the one going around biting people."

"Well, I suppose we can cross Nargles off the list at least," Snape said, nodding quietly in thanks as he took a sip of pumpkin juice that had been offered to him by a Hogwarts house elf.

"Would Sir like refreshment?" A tiny voice next to House's elbow asked.

House turned to see an elf holding up a tray with a singular mug of juice with an expectant expression on its face. He still didn't know exactly how to judge the gender of these curious creatures, if they even _had_ a gender. When he turned back around, both Snape and Luna had just placed their empty mugs back down on a nearby table, where they promptly vanished.

"And what gives you that idea?" House asked pointedly as he glared at Snape after he had gulped down the last of the surprisingly refreshing liquid.

"Considering that you have not yet collapsed to the ground after having suffered such a _grievous injury_, however humorous I personally find the prospect, I would say that it is, as you muggles are fond of saying, _a no-brainer_," Snape said with a gallows smile, as though daring House to challenge him, "Wouldn't you agree, Miss Lovegood?"

A strange sounding sigh emanated from where Luna had been standing and both men turned abruptly to see Luna falling limply to the stone floor. Before they could properly react, a group of house elves appeared and broke her fall, gently resting her down on the floor. Another two covered her up with a blanket as a third had grabbed the Nargle as it growled and snapped.

Just as House had opened his mouth to say something snarky at the now-glowering dark wizard to his right, a side door banged open loudly and a grumpy looking old man with stringy white hair and a reddish nose burst in with an old rusty spray can in hand. At his feet trotted a small cat with curiously lamp-like eyes.

"Damned pests! Hold your breath, Egil! I'll finish the brighter off!" The man shouted, raising the spray can and pointing it at the Nargle, depressing the plunger until a greenish mist burst from the tip and covered the large fluffy creature.

The snarling ceased abruptly. The house elf, who had been holding his breath as the green fog floated around the creature in its arms, dropped the Nargle to the floor, where it twitched once before it lay still.

"Got 'im!" The man roared, jumping joyfully into the air.

The cat made a small noise as though approving of her master's actions, then turned her large, golden eyes up to the two men who stood in shock by the wall.

"Good afternoon, Filch," Snape said evenly, his face drawn into an expressionless mask.

Filch pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and honked loudly into it before sniffing loudly and rubbing his nose once more. The handkerchief was wadded back into the pocket as he looked at house with rheumy, bloodshot eyes.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," Filch replied, "Who's that one, then? Sert mentioned that someone was making trouble with vermin in the kitchens, so here I come with my Pest Spray only to find you lot standin' around acting like the damn disease riddled pest is a pussycat!"

"Mrrr!" The cat intoned irritably.

"No offense, Mrs. Norris. You're a class apart, aren't ya, my girl?," Filch crooned, bending down to stroke her head until she purred loudly, "Damned Flufflepuffkins. I've never seen one so huge, either."

"So that's not a Nargle?" House asked flatly.

The aged man (who was obviously some sort of groundskeeper) sneered, though it was far less impressive than Snape's sneer, which was probably curdling all milk within a two mile radius.

_Oh, well if that's how they're going to be..._

House simply sneered back and said, "Well, excuse me for taking your expert word for it! After all, everybody lies, even, apparently, when they don't realize they're doing it! Might it have been even marginally prudent to ask Filch here about these supposed Nargles before wasting the time to wait for Lunatic Lucy over there? But no, that would mean that you were actually competent!"

"Poor girl musta fainted. Anyone would around a nutter like this one," Filch muttered, as though he was thinking aloud.

House took deep, heaving breaths and tried to calm himself. Things were getting bad. They'd wasted too much time and now...he watched Snape bend down and cast what were obviously some sort of diagnostic spells.

The man shook his head, dark hair falling into his face like a greasy curtain.

"She is like the others," Snape said carefully, and House was sure that he could detect a tiny tremor in the man's normally smooth voice.

_This was definitely getting bad._

A couple of the house elves had stayed behind near the young woman and were wringing their large, bat like ears. One was crying fat tears and sobbing quietly.

"Lovey always so kind to us," a house elf blubbered nasally, patting Luna's hand gently.

"Niare and Zem, you may take Miss Lovegood to the Great Hall and make her comfortable," Snape said as he stood, pinching the bridge of his nose as though trying to stave off a migraine.

With a loud popping noise, two of the elves disappeared with Luna lying between them.

"Now that's taken care of," Snape started, then realizing that a group of Hogwarts house elves were still standing around listlessly, he continued, speaking imposingly to the room at large, "I know that many of you are upset about what has happened here, the illness and death within these walls is nearly higher than after the last War ended, but you will be able to assist us all the best by continuing as though all is normal. It is your hands that ensure we are fed and rested so that we may use our abilities to the fullest. Your service is essential to the success of Hogwarts, and as such, I, former Headmaster of Hogwarts call upon you to honor your duties."

He then moved his hands in an odd manner, bringing them to either side of his head and folding his fingers slightly in some sort of gesture mimicking large, bat-like ears. Immediately, the house elves spread their ears wide until they touched tip to tip and then folded them back down again.

"You are dismissed," Snape rumbled authoritatively, and the house elves began to move like clockwork, readying the next meal.

With an intimidating look, Snape turned to Filch.

"Argus?"

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"I am no longer Headmaster, Argus, and you know it."

Snape sounded suddenly tired, and for once, House decided not to goad him about it.

"Once a Headmaster, always a Headmaster, I say," Filch replied stubbornly, crossing his arms.

Mrs. Norris stared unblinkingly at Snape as though to mirror her master's sentiment.

Snape took a deep breath and sighed as though trying to decide whether or not to argue with the elderly man.

"In any case," he said finally, having decided that it was far too much effort for far too little reward, "I need you to take that...thing...down to my office and leave it on my desk. I will need to do a proper dissection later to see if I can use this creature's venom to create an antidote."

House kicked the dead puffball gently with his shoe, at least enough to flip it over. What he saw underneath was unsettling enough to make him jump back with fright.

The underside of the fluffy creature looked more like the underside of a horseshoe crab than anything one might find at a petting zoo. Black spindly, chitinous legs ended in six sharp points. They curled up into the creature's abdomen like a dead spider. But what really gave him pause was the sac of poison attached to the very ugly stinger on an articulated curled tail that was attached to where House supposed its backside would be. Sightless flat eyes stared back at him and he nearly retched with revulsion at the sight of the creature's large mandibles.

_That girl had been holding it like it was a kitten!_

"More like a kitten from hell," House muttered to himself.

"Hmm?" Snape said sharply, "Have you something useful to add to this conversation?"

"Only that this thing has got to be the ugliest bastard I've seen in days," House replied sardonically, "And that's including you, batboy."

Glancing over at the ugly bastard in question, Snape merely rolled his eyes.

"_Must_ you be so theatrical? We have discovered that these...creatures...are likely the cause of the mysterious symptoms and subsequent illness."

"Headmaster..." Filch said hesitantly, and House found a smirk rising on his face.

"_What is it_, Argus?" Snape said in a tone of voice that suggested that he knew he was about to be horribly disappointed and was deeply irritated about this fact.

"I didn't want to say anything, but...even the largest of these beasties is usually no larger than a mouse," the caretaker mumbled, pointing to the dead Flufflepuffkin, "I've seen my share of enlargement spells done by damn dirty brats and that one over there has definitely been tampered with, I wager."

"Your point?" Snape said exasperatedly.

"The venom in those stingers might paralyze a toad or even a rat, but human beings? I highly doubt it," Filch replied solemnly, "and the effects wear off fairly quickly. I should know. The little bastards have stung me more than I'm proud to admit. They're a nuisance but not deadly."

"You said earlier that they were everywhere this year," House asked suddenly, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, that's the thing," Filch replied sourly, "This is their breeding season, which seems like it would be stupid for any living creature due to the cold, but that's what the fur is for, I suppose. Anyway, the cold normally keeps their numbers down, but it's been a warm, early spring this year. Hasn't happened in all my time here, either. I reckon that they multiply easier in good weather, damn 'em all to hell."

House said nothing to this and merely stared intently at the Flufflepuffkin as though expecting it to get up and start tap dancing. The gears were grinding in his mind, little snippets of information coming together in a way that only he could connect. Both Snape and Filch (Mrs. Norris was far too busy playing with a bit of dust in a late afternoon sunbeam to notice) stared back, waiting to hear what the doctor was about to say.

But, five minutes later, House was still standing there like a statue, and Snape finally had enough of it.

"Well, if you're just going to stand there like a goddamn dunderhead, _I'm_ going to actually do something useful!" Snape growled spitefully, turning on his heel and sweeping out of the kitchens dramatically as Filch pulled out the handkerchief and bundled the dead Flufflepuffkin inside.

Ten minutes later, a house elf was walking past House with a tall pile of clean plates when the doctor suddenly shouted "I GOT IT!" and nearly caused a domino effect of spills and crashes.

Luckily, the house elves were used to a myriad of randomly intrusive distractions, including students dueling, dragonfire, and the odd basilisk, so they quickly recovered with nearly zero casualties to the Hogwarts dinner set (and the rest were easily put to rights with magic). None of them batted an eye (or an ear) at the half-crazed look on the man's face as he ran from the kitchens and towards Snape's dungeon office.

Typical humans. They never seemed to understand _anything_ important.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Building a Mystery**

Hermione spun her chair around with a sigh of absolute boredom. Though their patients were increasing exponentially, there was little to actually do beyond the regular rounds and diagnostic spells to check vital signs. She had finished charting the information for all of the Infirmary patients ages ago. All that was left was to wait in the silent ward for Madam Pomfrey to return.

Time slogged on at a snail's pace. Nearly all of Hermione's patients were at Stage 3 of the disease progression, which was worse shape than even the Minister of Magic and the Headmistress were currently in. That only left Stage 4.

**Death**.

And there was no coming back from that one.

Sitting in such close proximity to bodies that lay unbreathing with hearts as still as wound down clockwork was admittedly quite creepy, especially as the shadows lengthened far earlier than she would have liked, but Hermione summoned her bravery, and she drew upon the strength she'd needed many times during the war when people she cared about were being abducted, injured and even killed.

In some ways, sitting there and watching people die slowly, all the while knowing that she was helpless to do anything at all was almost worse than being in a battle against murderous Death Eaters. At least with the Death Eaters there was hope that one might avoid a life-ending spell or curse with skill and cleverness.

But this disease...it took any fantasy of control away, rendering loved ones at a loss.

The stress and worry had finally come to a head only a couple of days ago for the brown-eyed witch, who (along with Ron and Harry) had been helping the professor develop a stopgap potion to help slow the progression and effects of the mysterious disease. They'd all been brewing together when the worst had happened. As soon as she had heard the fox patronus telling Ron and Harry who the most recent victims were and where to retrieve them for transport to Hogwarts, her heart had broken yet again. Her stomach had twisted as she thought _no, not Minerva. She's always been so careful_.

Hermione and Minerva had become quite close after the war. In fact, Hermione had been one of the only people Minerva had trusted to tell about her relationship with Kingsley and subsequent pregnancy. They hadn't married, but they loved each other fiercely, regardless of the potential of being caught "together" and dragged through the mud by Skeeter and her Daily Prophet cronies. Ever since that nuisance of a "journalist" made Department Head in Features, the sensationalist tripe being printed on the front page of the publication had become quite lowbrow indeed.

Hermione had been a target more than a couple of times (including one article that insinuated that she was in a romantic relationship with Firenze, the centaur who still taught Divination now that Trelawny had finally retired). She smiled wryly as she remembered sending an empty jar to Skeeter's office at the Prophet with a tiny piece of parchment folded into the shape of an insect. Later, she found out that the wizard responsible for pushing through the centaur story had been fired and a large apology letter was printed the next day.

But even with her stressful work as Headmistress, Minerva had been over the moon at the prospect of adding to her family.

"I'd thought that teaching all those years had quite cured me of the desire to have children of my own," the Headmistress had said, smiling as she rested a hand on the swell at her abdomen (which she ordinarily hid using loose robes and a bit of magic), "But apparently, I was wrong. It just took me this long for everything to be right."

Hermione kept telling herself that she needed to think similarly and simply wait for the right person to come along, but when it came to interpersonal relationships, she knew she was utter pants. Either she came on too strong and frightened potential suitors away, or she was so subtle and quiet about her feelings that they weren't noticed at all. There really was no in between, either. It left her frustrated and more than a little despairing at herself.

In an attempt to soothe her bruised ego at being horribly bad at something she actually wanted to do for once in her life, Hermione had promised herself not to get attached to anyone until she was finished with her Mastery certification, but what she had tried to dismiss her growing feelings towards her still strict and grumpy (but far more respectful) professor as an innocent and idealistic crush born from learning bits and pieces here and there about his true role in the war, it eventually morphed into something she could no longer ignore.

Harry had obviously gone on at length about the pensieve memories he'd seen, but Hermione was certain that there was far more to the story. She had been terrified to ask the man himself, however. To his credit, the dark wizard kept mostly to himself and rarely spoke about all he had done. Many were still unclear as to how he survived Nagini's bite, but then again, Hermione was not at all surprised. He was a Potions Master and an adept spy. He would have been an idiot not to have had a contingency plan.

And Severus Snape was no idiot.

The man simply valued his privacy and others, like Ron, (who had a way of telling stories about the war with equal parts suspense punctuated with moments that would make everyone in earshot laugh out loud), had been all too happy to pick up the slack. Hermione knew that Ron was well-liked in the Aurors and his background ensured that he was empathetic to all manner of people (though he still gave Draco Malfoy, who had somehow wormed his way into the Wizengamot, a hard time whenever they ended up in the elevator together). Together, both he and Harry were a great team, and he helped his brother tend shop as well as offered to babysit his older brothers' kids when they visited.

She tried not to think of Ron's still form lying motionless in the cot down in the Great Hall.

It was too much to bear.

Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath and delved back into memory in an attempt to distract herself from the fear and sadness that rose bitterly in the back of her throat and threatened to consume her. She was almost afraid that if she started crying, she'd never be able to stop again. There was too much sorrow inside of her that she'd locked away, telling herself that she'd wait to deal with it until a more convenient time.

But of course, no convenient time ever materialized, so all of it stayed inside, simmering perpetually in her soul.

Hermione tried to think back to those early days after the final fall of Voldemort. Ron had been a rock for everyone. He seemed to know exactly what to say and do to get everyone through burying the dead and beginning to rebuild what had been destroyed. A part of her was still sad that their relationship hadn't gone past a couple of passionate kisses in the heat of the moment. When Ron realized that Lavender had been mauled by Fenrir Greyback, he'd run to her side and stayed there. Hermione knew she couldn't compete, and felt horrible for even thinking like that when the poor girl had been lying in the critical care ward at St. Mungos, so she didn't even try. Her "mudblood" scar was tiny in comparison and had faded over the years to an almost unrecognizable white.

But fancying Ron, with his humorous anecdotes and easy way of simply _being there_ seemed almost like second nature. When it came to the professor...Snape..._Severus_...

She felt her face grow hot.

It was still weird to even _think_ of the dark wizard by his first name. It was weird to think of him as a _man_, _period_.

But her body didn't seem to have the same moral quandaries as her mind. And she had to admit, she was the only one of the three he'd spent extra time with under the guise of nurturing her usual habit of going far deeper into research about every topic than she was supposed to.

Ron and Harry were only doing the Mastery program because it was required for all Aurors who wished to be promoted from Apprentice Rank to Journeyman Rank. Hermione was not required to get her Mastery to advance at her job. She was doing it because she took a personal interest in it. She planned to do a Charms and Transfiguration Mastery program as well.

Of course, when it came to something one couldn't learn from a book, Hermione found herself desperately clueless and awkward as hell.

At first, it had been little things. She'd practically start glowing every time she got a smirk out of the man. She began to crave them so badly that on more than one occasion she'd said something so bitingly cruel to Ron or Harry for having made a mistake or done something foolish that they would be cross with her for the rest of the day. But it was worth it just for the possibility of seeing those thin lips quirk upward and (if she was particularly witty) she might even see a flash of his crooked yellowish teeth.

As the daughter of two dentists, Hermione found that his imperfect teeth were to her what a biker jacket and chain smoking were to others. There seemed something just so naughty about it that it gave her a vicarious thrill.

Of course, she would rather die than admit it to anybody

Neither of her best friends seemed to realize that she purposely put off apologizing until after they were all out of the professor's substantially keen earshot.

Snape was far more observant, unfortunately.

"You. _Sit_. I would like a...word with you," he'd told her the next day as Ron and Harry went ahead with looks of relief on their faces at not being asked to do the same.

Half an hour later, she'd managed not to admit anything (or meet his dark eyes, as she knew that he might look into her thoughts), but she'd left the brewing room scarlet-faced and had toned down her behavior in class from then on. Still, the feelings had remained and as time went on, they seemed to practically demand she pay attention to them.

How did she _really_ feel about him, though?

Everything kept coming back to that.

"Hermione, dear, are you still here all alone?"

Hermione jumped and spun around In surprise, but it was just Madam Pomfrey giving her a tired smile.

"Where are the other two volunteers?" the Medi-witch asked, putting her hands on her hips as though trying to be cross for Hermione's sake.

"Oh, don't be mad at Cho and Ardette," Hermione replied with a tired of her own, "I sent them to get some fresh air and something to eat. I could handle the remaining paperwork just fine on my own."

Pomfrey clucked her tongue.

"You and your paperwork, Hermione! I should have known that one as precise as yourself couldn't allow someone else to fill it out!"

Hermione blushed, indicating the neat stack on the left side of the desk.

"It's all here and accounted for," she said as brightly as she could muster.

"You look tired, Hermione," the Medi-witch said gently, "Why don't you go get something to eat as well? You've got to keep your strength up or I'm going to pester you until you take a Pepper Up Potion!"

"Thanks, Poppy," Hermione said, still feeling slightly strange about calling the older witch by her first name even though she'd been asked to do so when she had arrived to volunteer.

"Go on, then!" Madam Pomfrey said kindly as she waved the younger witch out of the office, "Oh! And don't come in tomorrow morning until eleven at the _earliest_. You'll do me no good if you run yourself ragged like you've been doing! Sleep in, go take a walk, or just sit around twiddling your thumbs, you hear?"

Hermione simply nodded curtly and waved her fingers in response as she let the Infirmary door slide shut behind her.

* * *

><p>Dr. Gregory House was lost. He'd figured out a brilliant answer, too. And what was the use of having a brilliant answer without an audience?<p>

_Not lost. Just not where I want to be...yet._

He tapped his foot impatiently as he looked down two seemingly identical stone hallways.

"You'd think that they'd have the forethought to properly mark where things are in this gigantic freaking...castle...school..._thing_," he muttered aloud to himself.

"Good sir, you appear to be having trouble! Might I be of assistance?" a voice called out from the wall.

"Who's there?" House called out, looking around suspiciously.

"It is I, Sir Cadogan!" a voice called from a painting that House had not really paid attention to on account of having been turned around in his quest to find Snape and rub the professor's giant nose in his brilliance.

House peered more closely and noticed a knight peering back from the frame of the painting, which hosted a giant flock of sheep and a beautifully painted sunset.

"I usually come here to think when the students are gone for the holidays," the knight continued, "But I noticed that you look a bit unsettled, and as a knight, it would be my pleasure to help you if you will accept it."

"What the hell," House replied with an amused glint in his eye, "I've never taken directions from a talking painting. Might as well try!"

"Now, then, who are you looking for?" Sir Cadogan asked, standing up and adjusting his plate mail with a cacophonous clank.

"Guy that goes by Snape, you know, tall, scrawny, nose like a toucan," House replied, smirking when the knight let out a loud gaffaw.

"I _like_ you," Sir Cadogan said, his belly still shaking slightly with mirth.

"I'll bet you say that to all the paintings," House replied in a mock bashful tone, "The irritating man I mentioned before _and_ his massive schnoz are supposed to be in his private offices, which I imagine are located in those delightfully cold and clammy dungeons. I just have no idea where that could be, as you can probably tell."

This way, then," Sir Cadogan replied, his voice growing slightly more distance as he jumped into another painting hung higher up on the wall, "Do try to keep up now!"

House found himself at a near sprint as the painted man leapt from frame to frame, all the while letting out a shout to keep the doctor going in the right direction.

It seemed the knight had trouble with direction, as they went down a few flights of stairs before turning around at a dead end and having to backtrack again. In fact, House tried to ditch Sir Cadogan twice, but the knight merely followed him whining piteously and eventually, House figured that eventually he would run into another human being.

Which is why, when he turned a particularly sharp corner and smashed headlong into Hermione, both of them tumbling to the floor with their arms and legs akimbo, he probably should have been less surprised .

"Bwah-huh!? Hermione?!" he exclaimed as they tried to untangle themselves.

"Dr. House. What a surprise," Hermione said, her eyes narrowing as she snatched the corner of her robes away from the disoriented doctor.

"Do you happen to know where your professor's private offices are located?" House asked, recovering from the shock of the fall, "I'm sure he's probably taken you there for _private lessons_ before, and all, am I right?"

Hermione pulled herself up to standing without offering to help House up, crossing her arms in irritation.

"I refuse to dignify that with an answer on the grounds that you're an insufferable ass," she huffed.

"Is he a boxers or briefs kinda guy?" House continued, as though he hasn't heard a word, "Either way, I'm sure he goes for black or shades of gray if he wants to go for something a little _different_."

"I wouldn't know," Hermione said between gritted teeth, setting her lips in a firm line.

"Not that I'm asking in a gay sort of way. About his underwear, I mean. I just like seeing your face get redder and redder until-"

"THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH! STOP ACTING LIKE YOU KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT HOW I FEEL!" Hermione shouted, her face a deep shade of red.

"That's more like it," House said, smirking, "Now, when you're feeling better after yelling at me, I'll need you to take me to see your Mr. tall, dark and batty."

"He is not my-_fine_! I'll take you there. Maybe you'll piss him off so much that he will transfigure you into a newt!" Hermione fumed, stomping ahead of the smugly smiling doctor.

House frowned.

"He won't be able to do it until I've explained my brilliant deduction," he said finally, that infuriating smirk growing wider, "And by then, he will be so impressed that I doubt he will want to harm a hair on my awesome head."

"You obviously don't know a _thing_ about Professor Snape," Hermione replied darkly without looking back, "He absolutely _hates_ know-it-alls. I doubt he will be impressed one bit. He will simply ask you why it took you so long to figure it out."

With that, she stomped ahead, muttering darkly under her breath and tried to order her thoughts as the smug doctor walked softly behind her. She noticed when she glanced back momentarily that he was limping slightly.

_Good. Serves him right for being such a git._

On one hand, Hermione was still incredibly irritated at the muggle doctor for having not only rammed into her without so much as an apology but also proceeding to go on in such an abrasive manner that she began sorting through the various unpleasant but non-fatal hexes she had mastered and wondered if anyone would really care all that much if she gave Dr. House an unbearable rash on his most sensitive places that would itch like crazy when left alone and hurt like hell if one attempted to scratch it. On the other hand, she felt terrible about herself for even entertaining the thought of hurting the muggle. Unless he actually tried to _harm_ her, (and the worst he'd done was try to wound her pride), Hermione would be a coward if she resorted to hexing the man out of spite. And despite having grown up (and therefore supposedly surpass the petty divisions of one's Hogwarts House), Hermione still prided herself on her Gryffindor courage.

_Bugger it all. I'll let Severus deal with him. He's got far fewer qualms with aiming a well-placed hex on a deserving victim than I do._

Hermione was glad that House did not know Occlumency as her face involuntarily blanched a bit at her vindictive thoughts. Was she turning into a Slytherin with such nasty thoughts? But no, being nasty wasn't a Slytherin trait, as much as she'd often thought as much while she was a student. She silently cursed the muggle doctor behind her for making her wrestle with these moral questions. As though having to watch her friends and fellow wixen fall to a deadly disease wasn't enough!

"Penny for your thoughts?" House said with a decidedly mocking tone to his voice.

"I wouldn't tell you what I'm thinking for all the gold in Gringotts!" Hermione snapped back, and she waved her wand behind her back, casting Muffliato around the man behind her so that all she could hear was some slightly annoying buzzing from time to time when he tried to say something else (ostensibly to get a rise out of her).

When his words did not have the intended effect, he lapsed into silence, which Hermione was intensely grateful for. Of course, only minutes later, they'd reached Snape's offices in the dungeons, so her peace was short-lived.

Knocking softly, she waited outside the door.

Moments later the door opened just a crack and the Potions Master peered out with one dark eye.

"Miss Granger," he said, simply, as he looked her up and down, "Are you being troubled?"

A buzzing noise emanated from the man behind her and he smirked. What an interesting usage of _Muffliato_, though a Silencing Spell would probably have been more effective. But as he thought on it, the idea that House would not know that he'd essentially been silenced was actually quite ingenious.

"He's all your's now," Hermione said, brushing past the professor and heading down his hallway towards the large library that he'd given her access to many a time before for her final Mastery research project. It was a subtle gesture, but he let her, feeling the fabric of her robes sliding against his own momentarily before she was past him. He could feel the static coming off of her body, the sort of magical discharge she always seemed to produce when she was feeling flustered.

She was flustered about having touched him, however slightly.

_Good_.

His eyes softened slightly as he watched her move down the hallway and turn into the doorway to his private library, but when he turned back around to House, who was still standing on the doorstep to his offices tapping his foot irritably, the professor's eyes hardened and his customary sneer had reemerged with a vengeance. With a surreptitious wave of his wand, he dispelled the _Muffliato_ spell and crossed his arms.

"This had better be good," he said dubiously, "Or I shall have no problem turning you into a frog and placing you in the cobra terrarium for the evening."

"Hermione said you'd turn me into a _newt_," House repled coolly, "But I doubt that you're going to want to turn me into anything slimy after I tell you what I've figured out."

"And that is?"

"I've figured out what the real vector for disease actually is," House said proudly, "Now, if you'll just get me a pen and paper, I'll be happy to explain it to you."

With a deeply weary sigh, Snape opened the door to his offices all the way and gestured over to a black walnut desk with a chair on either side.

"Don't make me regret not turning you into an amphibian immediately," Snape said tiredly, and House walked past with his head held high, giving the Potions Master a very uncomfortable sense of deja vu.

Gregory House might have been a muggle, but he was practically channeling the arrogance of Snape's lifelong bully James Potter. The cocky posture, the ruffled hair, even those blue eyes...it was _maddening_! House began writing on a piece of parchment that he'd pulled unceremoniously from the desk and Snape felt himself flinch at the disarray that had been perpetuated in such short time.

Severus Snape began to think that perhaps transfiguring the doctor into a newt would be far too kind a gesture, but he resolved to postpone the gesture until he heard this supposedly earthshaking information.

And then….

_Ribbit, ribbit, Dr. House._


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Turtles All the Way Down**

"_That_ is your brilliant deduction?" Snape said contemptuously, "Excuse me if I don't give you my vote of confidence. First you say that it must be Nargles-"

"I never said-" House interrupted, going silent as Snape shot him a look that said _Which one of us has the wand that can silence the other?_

House folded his arms and screwed up his features in a nasty pout, but he went silent.

"That is..._marginally_ better," Snape said with a glare, waiting a moment to be sure that House wasn't about to try to rudely interrupt again before continuing, "As I was about to say before you so rudely interrupted with _irrelevant_ information, first you say that it must be Nargles, or at least related to them, and then it's not Nargles, and now you're saying that it's the Nargles, or rather the _Flufflepuffkins_, whose ludicrous name has somehow surpassed the ridiculosity of _Nargles, yet again_."

"Are you finished yet?" House replied, sneering at the dark-robed wizard and feeling quite accomplished at having managed a marginally better sneer than before.

After all, he was in the presence of the master and he'd been getting quite a lot of practice for the past forty-eight hours.

Snape nodded, his expression drawn into that irritating blankness that he seemed to favor so often.

"What I was about to say was that it's not the Nargles or Flooflewhatsits or whatever that are causing the problem," House continued, "I remember what that caretaker was saying about vermin, you see."

"You mean as in your similarities _to_ a nasty pest that seems impervious to anything beyond the threat of grievous injury?" Snape asked sardonically.

"Takes one to know one, wouldn't you say?" House replied with a long measured look, "For muggles like me, when we think of vermin, we think of rats. But here, in Narnia or Pigpustules or whatever you want to call it-"

"It's _Hogwarts_," Snape hissed between his teeth, "And don't look at me like that. I didn't come up with the dreadful name. You should hear the school's song. It's even worse."

"I so wish _I_ had a magic stick that could render _you_ silent every time _you_ interrupted _me_," House repled tersely, "Because believe me, I'd use it."

"I don't doubt you would," Snape muttered, "But exactly what does this have to do with anything?"

"What I've been trying to tell you is that rats are famously known for carrying fleas, which have been known to carry what we refer to as 'the Bubonic Plague.' You might have heard of it. I hear it killed more than half the population of the continent I now find myself standing on, which really is no laughing matter. Though why they decided to name such a serious, deadly disease the _Boob_-onic Plague is beyond me. The potential comedy material is endless."

Snape looked unimpressed by House's history lesson.

"It may have escaped your notice," he said nastily, "But we do not live in the Dark Ages."

"Coulda fooled me," House said, looking pointedly up at the rafters of Snape's office at the chains and manacles that were strung from metal hooks bolted to the ceiling, "Unless you're a really, _really_ kinky professor, that is."

Snape snorted. He'd only had the chains installed as a way to terrify students into thinking that they might possibly strung from them (not that he'd ever do such a thing because such punishments had been officially discontinued back in 1968), and children would believe anything if their tiny minds were convinced otherwise by strategically placed manacles.

"We have various wards to keep most types of mundane pests at bay," he said dismissively, pulling back a strand of black greasy hair that had come loose from behind his ear, "And besides, witches and wizards are immune to the so-called plague as well as a number of other diseases and ailments, though we are also susceptible to illness that most muggles would never have to worry about."

"I'll take my chances with the plague any day," House said, "After all, we have a cure available for it. But no, what I'm suggesting is not the answer, it's an analogy. Those fluffy pests have hair, and if I know anything about filthy creatures with hair, it's that it's a ripe little ecosystem full of all sorts of nasty things. Things that are generally parasitic in nature. And if those parasites have some sort of bacterium or virus inside of their bodies, well, all it would take to possibly transmit said disease is if the creature were to jump from the body of its host to, say, one of our victims, leading to the whole '_death but not really death_ yet' phenomenon."

"So your _brilliant_ theory," Snape replied skeptically, "Is that it's Nargles, _excuse me_, Flufflepuffkins, who just _happen_ to be carrying some kind of flea-like parasite on their bodies, which in turn are just _coincidentally_ incubating some as of yet unknown pathogen that _only_ seems to affect wizards and witches who are pure-blooded or close to it?"

"Exactly!" House replied, "And stop looking at me like I'm crazy! The sad thing is that this is actually a plausible theory. Even the pure-blooded comorbidity can be explained because inbreeding tends to make individuals more susceptible to many types of disease and all it would take was one set of recessive genes to cause someone to react badly to a particular illness. It's certainly not unheard of, even if quite a few things would have to coincide in order to create the right conditions. _History_ is on my side, Snape, and so is the data. Even _you_ can't ignore that."

Snape seemed to think deeply for a few minutes, his frown deepening as the pieces of the puzzle fit together silently in his mind.

"Come _on_, admit that you were wrong for once," House wheedled, "I promise, I won't rub your nose in it...well, not _too_ hard, anyway."

"There are no coincidences as far as I'm concerned!" Snape repled, slamming a hand on the desk angrily, "I might be able to write off one coincidence as a freak occurrence, but what you're suggesting sounds more like the sort of plot that would have a mind behind it. If you're right…._hey_! Stop looking at me like I'm raving mad! I just know that there must be more to it than that, and that's if you've even got it right at all! The most simple explanation is that you're simply wrong again and grasping at this cockamamie theory because you're still no closer to knowing what's wrong with them!"

House simply stared back, unimpressed.

"Just because you see a dark plot in the shape of your eggs at breakfast doesn't mean that they're poisoned. And even if they are, you have more to blame on being such a vindictive bastard than in some machinations of some secret organization or some underlying villain setting out to send a message," House shot back, "This is a _medical_ issue, not some trashy pulp novel about gumshoes and spies."

"I had to spy on a madman for _years_ at great risk to life and limb, so don't you tell me that my suspicion is misplaced," Snape said, his voice gone dangerously quiet in a manner that was actually far more unsettling than when he had been shouting.

"Fine, then!" House replied, standing, "Why don't you try to prove your little pet theory and leave me to prove you wrong?"

"I aim to do just that," Snape replied darkly, pointing towards a darkened door down the hall and on the right, "Use my lab equipment however you see fit. Do be careful with anything you don't recognize, especially my ingredients stores. Many of the substances I work with can be..._harmful_. I will not be held accountable for any...accidents. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal," House replied with a defiant snarl.

Snape stood and swooped towards the door to his offices before stopping short and turning abruptly back to the startled doctor.

"House, you seem like a man who likes a bet, if I am not mistaken," Snape said with a sneer.

"Only if I have something to gain. And I can cheat if I need to," House replied, trying to mirror Snape's sneer and only managing a ghostly facsimile of the taller man's intimidating presence.

"But of course. It's the Slytherin way. As long as you don't get caught, all's fair in love and war and betting," Snape replied, his own well-practiced sneer growing.

House grinned wickedly, waiting for the dark professor to continue.

"How about if I'm right and we've got more to worry about than just some kind of magical bubonic plague, you give me your cane, you know, the one with flames on it," Snape said.

"Awww, but that's my favorite one!" House replied.

"Indeed. That is why I mentioned it."

"And what do I get if I win and it's a medical issue without your Spy Vs. Spy bullshit?" House said irritably.

"You get to be pain free," Snape said, his eyes glittering.

"It better not just be for five minutes or something clever like that," House replied with a shrewd gleam in his eye, "If I win, you get rid of my pain for good. No backsies."

"That...can be arranged," Snape said after a pause.

"Ok, then. Let's shake on it," House said, sticking out his hand.

Snape looked at the offered hand disdainfully, but reached out and shook it firmly just the same.

"May the best man win," Snape said darkly as he turned to leave.

"Oh, don't worry," House replied acerbically, "I plan on it."


End file.
